


The Marriage Trap

by Snapdragon83



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-07 22:12:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 35,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8818114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snapdragon83/pseuds/Snapdragon83
Summary: Kurt and Jane fake a wedding to catch one of the FBI's most wanted with Rich Dotcom's help.





	1. Chapter 1

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

Kurt’s collar felt about two sizes too small as the organist struck the opening notes of _The Wedding March,_ and all the guests rose to their feet and turned toward the door as his bride appeared in the entryway, a vision in white satin and lace. His breath caught in his throat as their eyes met, and she took her first hesitant step toward him.

Jane could scarcely breathe as she caught sight of Kurt at the altar waiting for her, flanked by Reade and a gleeful Rich Dotcom, Patterson and Zapata serving as her own maid of honor and bridesmaid, respectively. She didn’t take her eyes off him as she glided down the aisle to his side, the two of them sharing a wordless conversation as he lifted her veil and held out his hand to her, and she wrapped her fingers around his.

“Dearly beloved,” the minister intoned as they turned toward him, “we are gathered here together in the sign of God—and in the face of this company—to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony . . .

xxx

_Five days earlier_

The tension in the conference room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. “No way in hell,” Kurt spat, his eyes shooting daggers at the man across the table from him. “We’re not doing that. Have you completely lost your mind?”

Rich did his best not to take Weller’s offense—or his criticism—personally. He had actually put a lot of thought into this plan. And expense. “Not yet, but that’s no thanks to you, Stubbles. You had the prison place me in solitary and refuse to allow me to even pass notes with my beloved Boston.” Not that that had stopped him. “How _could_ you? I thought we were friends.

“Okay, okay,” he said hastily as Kurt started to rise. “Maybe _friends_ was too strong a word. But I promise you this will work. You agree to move me into a cell with Boston, and I’ll deliver one of the FBI’s most wanted to you. I’ve already got all the details taken care of, so all you’ve have to do is show up and say a few words.” Though he suspected it was the content of those words, not the plan itself, that was the real sticking point with Weller.

“Like you delivered Sho Akhtar to us?” Zapata demanded skeptically.

“Fair enough.” Rich did his best to look chagrined, rather than amused, at how easily he had pulled one over on them on that occasion. “But this time is different. You guys _know_ what Steven Hines looks like, and I’m telling you, that guy wants me dead in the _worst_ way. I’ve already put out the word that I’m going to be attending my dear friend Kurt’s wedding in a few days; heck, I’ve even got it all planned—well, except, for picking out the wedding dress. I thought the bride should be the one to do that, but it’s paid for. Anyway, my point is, you go through with this fake wedding and by the time the reception’s over, you’ll have one of the most wanted men in the world in custody. And I’ll be reunited with my sweet Boston. Win win.”

“But why does Jane have to be the bride?” Nas demanded. “I could—”

Rich laughed. “Are you kidding me? Nobody in their right mind would believe the wedding was real if you were the one walking down the aisle. The two of you have absolutely no chemistry. I’m still not clear on what your role is on this team, but honestly, you look at Stubbles here like he’s a piece of meat you’re sizing up at the butcher’s. Whereas he and Jane, on the other hand . . .” He waved a hand toward the two people who were studiously doing their best to pretend the other didn’t exist as they listened to him. “I’ve spared no expense for this, and if I’m going to risk life and limb to bring down such a dangerous man at a fake wedding, it can at least be a _romantic_ fake wedding. I think I’ve earned that.”

“Or,” Kurt countered, trying to ignore Rich’s unsettling observations about himself and Nas, thankful that her actions in the wake of their failed attempt to take down Sandstorm had led him to end their ill-advised brief fling even as he wondered why she was so eager to volunteer to be his bride given the lingering discomfort between them, “we could call the Marshals back in here to haul your ass back to prison where you belong.”

“You could do that,” Rich agreed almost too easily, and Kurt’s eyes narrowed, knowing there was a caveat coming. “But if you do, Hines will undoubtedly kill more people, and you’ll be left to explain to their grieving families why you didn’t seize the opportunity to take him down when you had the chance. I don’t think the fact that it was a little uncomfortable for you will sit well with them, do you? I’m betting they’ll sue the federal government for all it’s worth, and your jobs and reputations will be toast. But feel free to send me back to prison if that's what you think is best.”

Kurt ground his teeth as he realized that Rich once again had him over a barrel. “Fine. But—”

“What do you mean, _fine?”_ Jane burst out. She couldn’t believe he had just agreed to that without even _asking_ her. Sure, she would do it in a heartbeat to save lives, but it would have been nice to have been consulted first. To not have her participation constantly taken for granted. This wasn’t tattoo- or Sandstorm-related, after all.

“Don’t worry, Janie,” Rich said sympathetically. “Your feelings are completely understandable. It’s perfectly natural for a bride to get jitters before the big day. But don’t worry, I’ve left a blank check with one of the most exclusive bridal boutiques in the city to ensure that you’ll be the most beautiful bride ever to walk down the aisle. You’re a lucky, lucky man, Stubbles.”

“It’s a _fake_ wedding,” Jane reminded him irritably. “And I don’t see why we have to go to all this trouble. Why not just grab him when he shows up and be done with it?”

“That would be a great idea,” Rich responded, “if Hines had made it onto your most wanted list for being the dumbest criminal ever. Trust me, if he even smells a set-up, he’ll be gone before you catch a glimpse of him. No, in order to make this work, we’re going to have to go all in. You know, marriage license, a wedding announcement in the _Times_ , the whole nine yards. Huh. Guess you do have a few things to do besides just show up and say _I do_ after all.”

“That . . . could be a problem,” Patterson commented. “Jane will need a birth certificate or naturalization record to apply for a marriage license, in addition to a driver’s license, passport, or employment picture ID, and she doesn’t have any of those things.”

“I have amnesia,” Jane clarified as Rich’s confused gaze swung to her. “I was told by . . . someone I knew in my past that my name is Alice Kruger and I was born in South Africa, but I have no idea if that’s true or not.” Well, she suspected the story on the whole was true, but given that Shepherd had known the entire time that she was working for the FBI, she had no idea if the name was accurate. She wouldn’t have divulged anything that could lead back to her, that was for certain.

“But there’s no . . . Mr. Doe that you know of?” Rich clarified. “You are single?”

“Yeah,” Jane confirmed. “There’s not . . . I’ve never been married.” She believed that beyond the shadow of a doubt, though she had no absolute basis for that certainty.

“No worries,” Rich said easily. “I have contacts in South Africa. I’ll have your birth certificate here within twenty-four hours if you’ll let me make a phone call.” Or a damn near perfect forgery, if necessary. One that would never be questioned. “But that still doesn’t explain why you don’t have employment ID.”

She had before Kurt had arrested her, but since her return, she’d been issued a permanent guest pass, rather than an ID identifying her as a consultant. Just one more way she’d been made to feel like she wasn’t part of the team any longer. Though relations between them had improved somewhat recently, leading her to believe it was more an oversight than a deliberate slight.

“I’ll have a consultant ID issued for her by the end of the day,” Kurt promised as Rich’s irritated gaze turned on him, not quite sure why he was tacitly apologizing to a _criminal._ Probably because the wounded look in Jane’s eyes when Rich brought it up had reminded him of yet another of his shortcomings. He seemed to be making them with astonishing regularity these days.

“Good,” Rich said, cheerful once more. “Then I think we’re all set. Given what you’ve just told me, Jane, I assume you’ll want these two—” he waved a hand at Patterson and Zapata, “—to be your bridesmaids, so why don’t you guys head on out and get to dress shopping? And make sure she picks out the dress she really likes,” he advised them. “Money’s no object here. I want her to have the wedding she’s always dreamed of.”

 _As if she would know what that looked like_ , Jane thought sourly as she followed the agents out of the room at Kurt’s concurring nod. She had _amnesia._ And even if she did know, she would hardly want the arrangements for a fake wedding to be the same as on her special day, assuming she was ever lucky enough to have one. Rich was obviously having a difficult time distinguishing fantasy from reality. He had clearly been in solitary too long.

Rich was as good at his word at delivering her birth certificate—for which Jane was grateful, since it gave her some legitimacy, though she doubted it would protect her from the CIA—but despite his promise that they wouldn’t have to do anything but show up, a flurry of wedding-related details kept popping up that required her and Kurt’s attention, in addition to their regular caseload, and the next five days fairly flew by.

The wedding went off without a hitch, except for their fake minister coming down with food poisoning, but fortunately a bystander volunteered to stand in, and before they knew it, they were being introduced to their guests as man and wife.

“Has anyone spotted Hines?” Jane whispered to Kurt as they started down the aisle.

“Not yet,” he murmured back, trying to ignore how good Jane’s hand felt in his. “Rich said he thought he’d show up at the reception, rather than the wedding.”

If _he showed up_ , Jane thought skeptically, beginning to suspect that they had been played again. Hines still hadn’t shown his face by the time they finished taking the myriad of pictures Rich insisted on and appeared at the reception, so after making the rounds greeting their guest, Kurt led Jane onto the dance floor for the requisite first dance as husband and wife.

Jane closed her eyes as Kurt drew her into his arms, fighting the urge to rest her head on his shoulder as they swayed slowly to the music. This wasn’t real, she reminded herself, but oh, how she wished it were. Everything Rich had picked out had been just exactly what she would have chosen for herself.

Especially her groom.

They had just begun to cut the cake when Kurt got word that Hines had been apprehended, but to Jane’s surprise and secret delight, he opted to keep up the ruse for the sake of the guests who were present who weren’t aware of the ruse, and to all outward appearances, they looked like a couple deeply in love as they fed one another cake and fielded well-wishes as the guests gradually began to dissipate.

She owed Rich Dotcom a big debt of gratitude, Jane thought often in the days that followed, as things between her and Kurt not only improved dramatically, but relations with the other team members thawed as well. In fact, they were almost back to what they had been before she was arrested.

At least until one morning a little over a week after the wedding when Kurt came storming into the office looking like a thundercloud. “My office,” he ordered her without preamble. “Now!”

“Kurt?” Jane asked hesitantly as she followed him in there, and he pierced her with a glare that would have had her shaking in her boots if she’d done anything wrong. As it was, she was just confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you know about this?” he demanded, shoving the envelope he had received in the mail last night at her. He honestly didn’t think she had, but he needed to see her reaction for himself, needed to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that . . .

Jane’s face paled as she pulled the piece of paper from the envelope and quickly scanned its contents. “Is this . . .”

“Our marriage certificate,” Kurt told her grimly. “I went by the city clerk’s office on the way here. It’s legal.” He took a deep breath as he met her eyes again. “We’re married.”


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

“How . . .” Jane’s voice was shaking, and she took a deep breath to steady it as she stared down at the offending piece of paper. “How is this possible? We didn’t . . . The minister . . . This isn’t . . . This can’t . . .”

“Jane.” Kurt took the certificate from her and placed it on the desk behind him before gripping her shoulders firmly. “Relax. Breathe.” Freaking out wouldn’t do either of them any good, though admittedly he had done his share of that since opening that envelope last night. “We need to figure out our next move.”

“Right.” Jane took another deep breath as the reality of the situation started to sink in. “You’ve obviously had a little time to think about this. What would you suggest?”

Kurt sighed. He’d done some research early this morning when sleep wouldn’t come, but none of it was very encouraging for resolving this quickly and quietly. “As much as I hate to say it, I think the two of us need to pay Rich Dotcom a visit and find out just what the hell is going on.” He’d been hoping never to see that man again in this lifetime, but deep down, he’d expected the man would find a way to insert himself into his life again.

He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon—or so memorably.

Jane nodded slowly. “That makes sense.” Though she wasn’t quite certain how she was going to keep from strangling Rich. As if she hadn’t already had enough on her plate—the _team_ had enough on their plate. And speaking of the team . . . She glanced out toward the bullpen where an eagle-eyed Zapata was watching them with undisguised curiosity. “So what do we tell everyone about why we’re leaving the office?”

Kurt dropped his hands like he’d been scalded as he followed her gaze. “It’s probably best if we stick as close to the truth as we can. We’ll tell them Rich wants to see us.” A meeting he had no doubt the man was gleefully anticipating, even if he hadn’t requested it.

And Rich’s smirk as soon as they entered the room confirmed it. “Mr. and Mrs. Weller,” he greeted as they took the seats across from them. “It’s so nice to see you again. How goes married life?”

His smile widened at Kurt’s furious glare. “You look a bit stressed there, Stubbles. If it’s the lack of a honeymoon, I’m sure we can work something out. I’d be happy to pay for it in exchange for, oh, I don’t know . . . an extra hour of exercise a day? No? Well, we can negotiate.”

“Cut the crap, Rich,” Kurt growled. “This marriage might technically be legal, but we both know it isn’t _valid._ We were coerced into it."

“Coerced?” Rich didn’t even have to feign his injured look this time. “It’s not as if I held a gun to your head. In fact, if memory serves me, I was in _your_ custody, Stubbles. I offered you a deal, and you took it. I didn’t _force_ you to do anything.”

“The deal was that the marriage would be _fake,”_ Kurt spat. “You—"

“Actually, if you’ll think back, all I promised was that the ceremony itself would be fake,” Rich intervened. “I never said a word about the marriage resulting from it. A marriage that the two of you made legal by signing the marriage license. Which you did without a word of encouragement from me, I might add.” Though it had taken everything in him to keep quiet until they did so and not to cheer afterwards. “One might almost think the two of you _wanted_ to be married.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Jane protested. “We were just preoccupied with waiting for Hines to show up, and not thinking clearly.” Or at least she hadn’t been. She wasn’t sure what Kurt’s excuse was. “We would _never_ have chosen to get married of our own free will.”

“In that case, I did the two of you even more of a favor than I realized,” Rich told them. He’d never met two people more perfect for one another—or more stubbornly determined to resist the attraction between them. He didn’t know what had happened to cause the rift between them, but it was high time they mended it. A love like theirs didn’t come along every day.

“All you’ve done is force us to waste valuable time—" and no doubt money, “—putting an end to this farce,” Jane shot back. “Or did you think you could somehow trick us into staying married as well?”

Rich chuckled. “As delightful a challenge as that would be, my dear Janie, the state of New York has that pretty well taken care of for me.” And he was counting on her concern for Kurt to take care of the one loophole left open to them.

Jane’s brow furrowed as she got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “What . . . what do you mean by that?”

Rich glanced at Weller. “Do you want to tell her, Stubbles, or should I?”

“Kurt?” Jane asked softly when he looked away, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “What is he talking about?”

Kurt sighed as he reluctantly met her gaze. “I did a little research last night,” he admitted. “In order to get a divorce, we have to be separated for at least six months. An annulment makes more sense, but there are very specific criteria we have to meet to qualify for one, and . . .”

“What Stubbles is trying to say,” Rich interposed when Weller faltered, “is that in order for your marriage to be automatically void, you would have to have been married by someone not licensed to perform the ceremony in this state, which I can assure you is not the case. A court can declare a marriage void if one spouse is under the age of consent, mentally deficient, or, er . . . incapable of performing in the bedroom. Also, if one or both parties consented to the marriage due to force, duress, or fraud.”

“Well, there you go,” Jane said as she leaned back, feeling herself breathe a little freer for the first time since this all began. “That last one fits us to a tee.”

“True,” Rich nodded, doing his best to look appropriately solemn. “But court proceedings are public record, and in order to have your marriage voided on those grounds, you would have to go before a judge and announce to the whole world that the assistant director of the New York office of the FBI was not only completely hoodwinked by a criminal he’d had dealings with before, but he unwittingly allowed said criminal to pay for his _wedding._ Call me crazy, but I don’t think the public would have too much confidence in Weller’s ability to keep them safe after that, do you?”

“You son of a bitch!” Jane exploded, lunging across the table toward Rich. How dare he impugn the integrity of a man who was worth a hundred of him? And then sit there calmly smirking at them as if he hadn’t a care in the world?

“Jane!” Kurt said firmly, catching her around the waist and pulling her back. He shared her outrage, but lashing out at the man responsible for their predicament wouldn’t help the situation at this point.

“That’s the way, Stubbles,” Rich approved. “Show the little missus who’s boss.”

“One more word out of you, and I’ll let her show you _exactly_ who’s boss,” Kurt told him coldly. Rich’s eyes gleamed, and for a moment he thought the man was going to press the issue, but then he apparently thought better of it and fell silent. Kurt sighed. “What do you want, Rich?” He didn’t believe for a moment that Dotcom had gone to all this trouble and expense simply for the hell of it; he had to have an objective—one that hopefully offered a solution that they weren’t seeing yet.

There was nothing they could give him that would induce him to offer them a way out of this, but Rich pursed his lips, pretending to consider the question. “You could start by returning all of my assets that you froze. And chartering me and Boston a jet to a nice, non-extradition country.”

“Let’s go,” Kurt said to Jane, shoving his chair back with such force that it nearly tipped over. Jane cast Rich one last loathing glance as she followed him from the room.

“Don’t be strangers!” Rich called just as the door started to slam shut behind them. He leaned back in his chair and laughed maniacally as he waited for the guards to come in and return him to his cell. He couldn’t wait to tell Boston about this. The two of them had spent countless hours since becoming cellmates anticipating Jane and Weller’s discomfort, but the reality far exceeded all of their expectations. And the best was yet to come.

Kurt’s footsteps didn’t slow until they were outside the prison walls, Jane scurrying to keep up with him. “Hey, wait up! Kurt!” She jogged in front of him, forcing him to stop and look at her. “Talk to me,” she pleaded. She understood his frustration, but the two of them were going to have to start working together to solve this. He had pulled her back from the brink in there, and she was determined to do the same for him now.

“What is there to talk about?” Kurt asked bitterly. “What can we do, except wait six months and quietly get a divorce?” He'd known that was the likely outcome, but he’d been hoping against hope that Rich had had a purpose for this little con he’d perpetrated, that he would offer them a way out.

Instead, it appeared to have been nothing more than a sick joke to him.

“What if we talk to a lawyer?” Jane suggested. “There must be some loophole, some way to . . .”

“Short of going before a judge and claiming fraud . . .” Kurt drew a deep breath as he looked away, shaking his head slightly. “There’s not.”

“That is not even an option,” Jane reassured him fiercely. “You’re my friend, Kurt, and we’re in this mess together; I’m not about to let it destroy your reputation. Besides, I’m not seeing anyone at the moment, and six months isn’t that long. If I meet someone and they’re not willing to wait, they’re not worth my time anyway.”

“So we just . . .” Kurt hesitated, trying to ignore the primal surge of jealousy that flooded him at the thought of his _wife_ seeing another man. “We just go on with business as usual, and in six months . . .”

“We get a divorce,” Jane agreed, feeling a pang in her heart as she spoke the words. She knew it was too much to expect after everything that had happened between them, that they were lucky to be getting back to a friendly footing, but some part of her had been hoping to hear him say that he didn’t want the divorce, that he’d like to give them a chance and see where it went.

But of course, that was crazy.

The drive back to the office was silent, each of them lost in their own thoughts—thoughts they would have been startled to know were eerily similar, eerily _longing_ —but their hastily conceived plan suffered a setback the moment they stepped out of the car.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weller?” a well-dressed man asked as he approached them. Kurt and Jane exchanged cautious glances and then nodded, both of them going for their weapons as the man reached into his pocket. “Easy! Rich Dotcom asked me to return these to you. He said you would be needing them.” He shoved the two small black boxes into their hands and fled before the stunned pair could think to argue.

“I thought these were put into evidence,” Jane said in disbelief as she opened hers to reveal the diamond-encrusted bridal set that had featured in her dreams since Kurt slid them on her finger. She didn’t know why her subconscious persisted in imagining a future for them where there clearly could be none. Kurt might be hers legally—for the moment—but he would never belong to her physically or emotionally, never be her boyfriend or husband in truth.

“They, ah . . . they came up missing before they could be logged in,” Kurt told her as he opened his box to reveal his own wedding band, similarly affected. “We figured Rich had had someone filch them somehow.”

“So why go to all that trouble and then turn around and give them right back to us?” Jane asked in puzzlement. Rich had to know that they would just go straight into evidence now. “He has to know we have no intention of staying married, or announcing it to the world. What do you think he meant by us needing them?”

Kurt simply shook his head, but a prickle of foreboding snaked its way down his spine. He did his best to shrug it off, but it was an instinct he would have done well to heed.

The entire team was waiting for them when they stepped off the elevator. Patterson looked upset, Reade uneasy, Zapata a mixture of both with some amusement thrown in as well, and Nas . . . Nas was always difficult to read, but Kurt could have sworn there was fury in the dark depths of her eyes beneath the controlled mask she wore so well. “What’s going on?”

“Funny, we were just about to ask you that,” Tasha spoke up. “A reporter from the _Times_ showed up about an hour ago. She said she’s here to do an interview about your journey to love. Something you want to tell us, boss?”

 _Goddamn you, Rich,_ Kurt thought, glancing over at Jane as she sucked in a shaky breath. He’d had a feeling that bastard was just a little too amused all throughout their visit, but given the con he’d just pulled on them, he’d dismissed that impression.

It was a mistake he bitterly regretted now. Of course Rich wouldn’t have left them with such an easy out. What the hell had he been thinking?

“I, uh . . .” Kurt wrapped his arm around Jane’s waist as she crossed her arms, recognizing her unease beneath the defensive posture, relieved to feel her lean into him slightly. They were clearly going to have to rethink their plan, but just as she had said earlier, they were in this together. They were going to have to be here for one another now more than ever. “So, it turns out that wedding wasn’t quite as fake as we thought.” He gave Jane a slight smile of reassurance before meeting the others’ stunned eyes once more. “We’re married.”


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

 

The silence that descended on the room was almost deafening. “You’re . . . married,” Tasha repeated in a tone Jane imagined she would use if a dog had just wet on her favorite pair of shoes. So much for the progress she thought she had been making with the team. She started to take a step back, but Kurt held her fast.

“And it’s . . . legal?” Tasha asked. “You’re sure?”

Kurt nodded. “Rich Dotcom made certain of that.”

Tasha made the mistake of glancing over at Reade and snorted at the stunned expression on his face, bursting into laughter when his eyes widened at her reaction, he and Patterson joining in after a moment as well. “S-s-sorry,” Tasha apologized, making a valiant effort to get herself under control before losing the battle and laughing harder. She’d been far too serious for far too long, and the news that her boss had been hoodwinked into _marriage,_ of all things, and by none other than Rich Dotcom, was proving to be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

 _Well,_ that _certainly wasn’t the reaction she had been expecting,_ Jane thought as she glanced up at Kurt, relaxing somewhat when she saw a slight smile on his face as well as he observed the team, her own lips curving upwards as they all continued to chuckle. _But maybe it was what they had all_ needed. The past months hadn’t been easy for any of them.

“I’m glad you all find this so humorous,” Nas said icily, recalling them to a sense of reality. “Personally, I don’t think that it’s at all amusing that the head of the New York office of the FBI was so easily hoodwinked by a common criminal.” Though she was already assessing how that mistake could work in her favor.

“Oh, there’s _nothing_ common about Rich Dotcom,” Patterson spoke up. “He’s like a force of nature. Trust me, when he wants something to happen . . . it happens.” With the notable exception of her outwitting him this last time and putting him behind bars where he belonged. Though that _clearly_ hadn’t put an end to his scheming. “Did he say why he did it?”

“Why who did what?” Pellington asked as he stepped off the elevator behind them, glancing from one to the other as they all looked startled and then uneasy at his arrival. His eyes narrowed as he noticed Weller’s arm around Jane’s waist. “What’s going on?”

“Director Pellington,” Nas greeted. “ _Assistant_ Director Weller was just informing us that Rich Dotcom conned him, and his fake marriage to Jane in that sting operation last week is in fact legal.”

Pellington’s eyebrows rose as he glanced at Weller. “Is that true, son?”

“Yes, sir,” Kurt admitted, meeting Pellington’s gaze unflinchingly, wishing he could tell what the man was thinking. His boss’s face was inscrutable as he nodded.

“Why don’t we take this into the conference room?” Pellington suggested, mindful of the curious stares being leveled in their direction, his thoughts racing a mile a minute as he walked.

Kurt took a seat beside Jane, scooting his chair as close to hers as he dared and keeping a firm grip on her hand under the table. “Sir . . .”

“Relax, Weller,” Pellington advised him. “I already knew we’d been played somehow; it’s the reason I’m here.” Everyone at the table sat up a little straighter at that news, waiting expectantly for him to continue. “As you know, Hines has refused to talk since being extradited back to California, but he finally opened up yesterday and admitted that he had no idea who Rich Dotcom was. He has end-stage cancer and had blown through all the money he stole in his bank robberies while he was on the run, so when he was contacted by a man who promised his daughter a large payout if he would turn himself in, it seemed like a godsend. All he had to do was show up at the end of your reception and surrender, then keep his mouth shut about it for a week.”

Kurt nodded slowly. He’d been wondering about the connection between Rich and Hines, but he’d been so angry at the prison that it had slipped his mind to ask. “That makes sense. And of course, it was child’s play for Rich to arrange for the fake minister to get food poisoning and replace him with a real one to make the marriage legal.”

“Which he still wouldn’t have been able to do if you hadn’t signed the marriage license,” Nas pointed out coolly. “Care to explain that?”

He really couldn’t. He had simply gotten so caught up in the moment, in the stunning vision of Jane in that wedding gown and the feel of her hand in his, that he had signed the paper without even thinking. Not that he owed her an explanation.

“I think that’s irrelevant at this point,” Pellington intervened before Kurt could come up with an appropriate response. “What’s done is done. What we have to do now is decide how to proceed from here.”

Nas frowned. “What’s to decide? Obviously, Weller needs to put an end to this marriage as soon as possible. The last thing the NYO needs after losing so many agents in a terrorist attack is to have its assistant director tied to the family behind it.” She knew she’d made a mistake as soon as she spoke. There was a chorus of sharply indrawn breaths from all around the table and everyone sat up straighter as their eyes shot daggers at her.

“Jane is not a terrorist!” Patterson said heatedly in defense of her friend. Sure, she’d had her reservations as the attack was unfolding, but she had come to bitterly regret how unfair that had been. Jane had been unfailingly supportive of her ever since, leaving her brother’s side as soon as she heard Borden had shot her and heading straight to the hospital to visit her. She was the one person in the world who could understand what Patterson was going through right now, and she had never failed to lend a sympathetic ear when she needed to talk or to sit with her quietly when she sensed she needed the company.

That kind of goodness couldn’t be faked.

Nas frowned. “I wasn’t suggesting that Jane intentionally led us into that trap—”

“You’ve been all but saying it since the night the raid on Sandstorm failed,” Zapata said acidly. And it was unfair. She still hadn’t entirely forgiven Jane, but her innate sense of justice wouldn’t allow her to be judged for something she was completely innocent of. “Jane’s done everything we’ve asked of her since we brought her back, and—”

“Actually, she hasn’t,” Nas interrupted. “Our deal was that she would help us bring down Sandstorm in exchange for my protection from the CIA, and she failed to uphold her end of that bargain. However unwitting her actions, a lot of good people lost their lives because of it. Thousands more still might, since we now have no idea where Sandstorm is, or what they’re up to.”

“She failed because _we_ let _her_ down,” Patterson shot back before Kurt could utter the scathing response on the tip of his tongue. “We employed the mole that blew her cover and caused all those deaths. That’s on _us._ Jane did everything in her power to stop that attack, and she nearly lost her life in the process. And if we’re going to start judging people as guilty by association, then I suppose I should tender my resignation here and now.” She drew in a quavering breath. “ _I’m_ the one who was dating the man responsible for exposing Jane and getting all those agents killed. Borden found out about Jane’s true allegiances because of _me._ So if anyone is to blame here, I am.”

“No one is to blame, Patterson,” Jane assured her again, as she had so many times since that night. “Sandstorm had their doubts about me before I ever went back to them the first time. One way or another, Borden would have ferreted out where my allegiances lay. It was only a matter of time.”

“I think we’re getting a little off-topic here,” Nas intervened, desperate to get the conversation back on track. Wishing every time she opened her mouth she didn’t seem to insert her foot these days. They still shared a common goal, after all. They were going to have to find a way to put aside their ideological differences and find a way to work together to take down Sandstorm. “Can we get back to talking about Weller and Jane, please?”

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Pellington agreed as Kurt stiffened, tightening his grip on Jane’s hand. “Ms. Kamal, you just said that Jane failed to uphold her end of your bargain, so I’m assuming that deal is now null and void. That being the case, as far as I’m concerned, Jane is now an FBI asset again. We’ll continue to follow her tattoos and investigate what happened to her, and you can use your NSA resources to chase any leads on Sandstorm. We’ll be more than happy to share any information we unearth with you, provided that’s a two-way street.”

Nas kept her composure with an effort. “Director Pellington—” He met her eyes with a steely-eyed gaze of his own that told her she wouldn’t be swaying him on this issue. “Sandstorm is the gravest threat to our national security we’ve ever faced, and Weller and Jane and Roman are now the only links we have to them. I agree to your terms, but I’d like to continue working closely with the team in the meantime.”

“Fine,” Pellington agreed. He didn’t trust the woman as far as he could throw her, but in this case, it seemed wise to follow the adage, _Keep your friends close and your enemies closer._ Whether she was friend or foe had yet to be determined, but he trusted Weller to keep an eye on her. It was clear he didn’t trust her one bit either. “Now if you’ll excuse us, Ms. Kamal, agents, I’d like to speak to Weller and Jane alone.”

Nas bit back a protest at being cut out of the discussion as Pellington continued to regard her with cool eyes. He was making it understood that there was going to be a very clear separation of power between the FBI and NSA moving forward, and if she didn’t want to endanger their cooperation, she would need to abide by that. For now, at least.

“Well,” Pellington said once everyone had finally exited, “this is quite a mess you’ve gotten the two of yourselves into.” If he didn’t have such a soft spot for Kurt, he would be tempted to fire him—or demote him down to a field agent in their most remote satellite office in Alaska. “Fortunately, I think we can make it work in our favor.”

Kurt had been grateful for Pellington’s support in the meeting, but he felt his heart sink at his boss’s words. Something told him that he wouldn’t like what was coming next. That _they_ wouldn’t like it. “What do you mean by that, sir?”

Pellington leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he studied the couple across from him. It hadn’t escaped his attention how those two always seemed to gravitate toward one another when their backs were against the wall, to fight back harder when the other was threatened. Just like a real married couple would do. “This office took quite a hit, losing so many agents in Sandstorm’s attack and not being able to apprehend the people responsible. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what that’s done to morale here, especially with the continued negative publicity.” The public understandably wanted answers and the FBI unfortunately had none to give. “We could really use a feel-good story to counteract that, and what better than the romance between the NYO’s assistant director and the tattooed amnesiac that he helped to get justice for? It’s practically a modern-day Cinderella story.”

“Except it isn’t,” Kurt pointed out stiffly. “Jane and I aren’t married for real. In fact, we already agreed that we’re going to get a divorce as quickly as possible, and in order to do that, we have to be separated for six months.” And if they agreed to play a lovey-dovey couple, it would be at least six months before they _could_ separate, and very likely longer.

Pellington sighed. “I can’t tell you what to do here, Weller, Jane, but I’m asking you to at least consider it. The Bureau really needs this.” Fortunately, it looked as if Jane, at least, wasn’t completely opposed to the idea. Which was a better thing than she knew. “And there’s no reason it can’t be . . . beneficial to both of you as well. Quite frankly, your job is on the line at the moment, and the CIA is still _very_ interested in Jane.” He noted with satisfaction the hardening of Weller’s jaw at Jane’s sharply indrawn breath. “The publicity surrounding your marriage would certainly be an effective deterrent to that.”

He glanced from one to the other when neither of them spoke. “Well, I’ll leave you two to talk it over. But don’t take too long. I’m sure that reporter isn’t going to wait all day.”

Jane could feel Kurt’s concerned gaze on her as Pellington exited the room, and she attempted to smile to set his mind at ease. “It’s okay, Kurt. I’m sure it’s nothing we need to be concerned about. The CIA already knows they’re not going to get any answers out of me.”

 _It might not be answers they wanted any longer,_ Kurt thought grimly as he studied Jane. Given what they knew now, she was a loose end—and that had to be making someone very nervous. “I don’t think Pellington would have brought it up if he wasn’t under serious pressure to hand you over,” he said slowly and saw her shoulders slump, her arms crossing over her middle defensively. “It’s okay, Jane. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“And I’m not going to let you throw your career away to protect me,” Jane shot back. “Nas was right when she said that it would be detrimental for you to be allied with me. Sooner or later, the truth about me will come out. You have people that love you, and a baby on the way to think about now, Kurt. I’m not your problem.”

“You’re my wife,” he pointed out simply, and she nearly felt her heart stop at the tenderness in his gaze, at the memory those words evoked. “What affects you, affects me now. I _never_ wanted for you to be tortured, Jane, and I’m not about to stand back and let that happen again.” Or worse. The cost be damned. “Besides, you heard Pellington: my career’s on the line if I _don’t_ do this. I know it’s a lot to ask . . .”

“I’m in,” Jane said simply. “If you’re sure that’s what you want to do. But I don’t think you’ve really thought this through, Kurt.” He hadn’t really had _time_ to think it through. “There are a lot of things to consider before you make a decision like this.”

“Such as?” Kurt asked, watching her closely. He could think of a few off the top of his head, but he was curious to hear what she had to say.

“Such as . . . If we’re going public with our marriage, are we going to be staying under the same roof, or keeping our own space? Are we going to decide on a time frame to end the marriage, or just wing it? And are we . . .” Jane hesitated to voice her last question, but it had to be said. “Once the publicity dies down, are we going to be seeing other people, or . . .”

Kurt bit back the automatic _no_ that sprang to his lips. Jane might be his legally, but she wasn’t his wife in truth. He had no right to be jealous, no right to impose his will on her. Besides, it was a two-way street. Not that _he_ wanted to see anyone else. “All good questions. I don’t think we have the time to hammer out all the details right now, since like Pellington said, that reporter won’t wait forever, but I do think we’re going to have to live together. The team are the only ones who will know the marriage is fake, so your staying in a Bureau safe house would raise more than a few eyebrows around here.” Not to mention what would happen if the media got wind of it. He hesitated. “Is that . . . will that be . . . a problem?”

Jane shook her head. “I’m not . . . seeing anyone romantically. You?” She wasn’t blind. There had been something going on between him and Nas before Sandstorm’s attack, but the tension between them lately suggested it had met an abrupt end for some reason. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone else.

Not since his ill-advised brief fling with Nas. “No,” Kurt told her, biting back a smile at the relief on her face before she could hide it. He was glad that he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. The two of them spent a few more minutes going over the particulars of their supposed courtship before he stood and held out his hand. “Shall we?”

Jane took a deep breath as she rose and threaded her fingers through his, and they walked out of the conference room hand-in-hand. He nodded to Pellington as they approached the team, relieved Nas had made herself scarce. The two of them had come to an uneasy truce since he’d had his eyes opened to her true character, but this situation was going to strain that tenuous détente. “So . . . where’s this reporter?”

Pellington made no effort to hide his relief as he motioned toward Weller’s office, where a dark-haired woman was seated at the round table near the door typing away on a laptop. “Her name is Anna Sadler,” he mentioned as she glanced up, smiling tentatively as she caught sight of them looking at her. “She writes mostly puff pieces for the _Times_ rather than investigative journalism, so you shouldn’t have any trouble with this interview.” He held out his hand, shaking both of theirs in turn. “Good luck. And . . . congratulations.” He had a feeling that he would be buying them a wedding present for real in the not-so-distant future.

“Thanks,” both Kurt and Jane murmured before starting toward his office. Kurt wrapped his arm around Jane’s waist as he opened the door, pasting a smile on his face as he met the reporter’s expectant gaze. “Ms. Sadler? I’m Kurt Weller, and this is my lovely bride Jane . . .”


	4. Chapter 4

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

 

This day couldn’t end soon enough.

Jane pasted a smile on her face as another agent whose face she didn’t recognize and whose name she would never remember dropped by her desk to congratulate her on her marriage to Kurt. The news had spread throughout the building like wildfire, thanks to Zapata placing a word in a few well-chosen ears that the wedding had in fact been real.

She still had no idea what their supposed excuse for keeping it a secret was, but fortunately, no one mentioned that. Nor did she know what to do with the impromptu shower of belated wedding gifts that were piling up on her desk. It seemed every agent in the building was anxious to express their well-wishes to Kurt, and since he was in a meeting with Pellington, they left them with her.

Well . . . every agent except one.

“Don’t look at me,” Zapata said as she approached. “I’m not getting you anything.” She jerked her head toward the elevator where Reade was waiting. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Jane asked warily as she rose and followed her.

“Your safe house,” Zapata said tersely. “Weller asked us to help you pack up your things.” Her tone of voice made it clear what she thought of that. She was an FBI agent, not a mover, but she could hardly say no to her boss. Especially when he was asking for help with his _wife._ Even a newly acquired one that he had wanted no part of.

Reade tried to make small talk on the drive, but both women answered him in monosyllables, and he eventually gave up. “Wow,” Zapata commented as they walked inside, seeing nothing changed from the night they had first brought her back here. “And I thought you didn’t have much last time. This isn’t gonna take long at all.”

Jane shrugged. “Less for you guys to clear out when the CIA gets ahold of me again.” She’d meant the remark to be flippant, but the quaver in her voice gave her away.

“You’re not going to be handed back over to them ever again, Jane,” Reade instantly assured her. “You’re the wife of the Assistant Director of the FBI now, and it’s being highly publicized. Trust me, the CIA isn’t going to want to come within a hundred miles of you once that article hits the newsstands.”

Jane gave a noncommittal nod. Marriage to Kurt was a temporary reprieve, at best; she was reasonably certain that Keaton would bide his time however long it took to get his hands on her. She had humiliated him with her escape, and he wasn’t the type of man to be able to let that go.

But at least she now had time to formulate an exit strategy.

She grabbed a duffel bag. “I’ll pack up my personal things.” God knew that wouldn’t take long. “If you guys . . . if you could clean out the refrigerator and cupboards, that would be great.” She disappeared into the bedroom without waiting for their response.

Zapata raised an eyebrow at Jane’s departing back. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Come on, Tasha,” Reade said as he opened the refrigerator, weary of the constant sniping between the two. “Lay off. Do you really want to make Weller have to choose between you and his wife?”

“His fake wife,” Zapata corrected, though she knew it was a distinction without a difference at this point. She doubted Weller could be under the same roof as Jane for any length of time without giving in to the attraction he clearly still felt for her. If she were still a betting woman, she could make a fortune off this situation. “And forgive me for not cozying up to a woman who just insinuated that we wouldn’t hesitate to hand her back over to the CIA.”

“That’s not exactly what she said,” Reade countered. Though given what had happened, those fears wouldn’t be unjustified. And now that he thought about it . . . “And she’s not wrong to worry about that. This marriage to Weller isn’t going to last forever, and the CIA snatched her off the street once before. Once the publicity dies down and it’s over . . . what’s to stop them from doing it again?” And throwing her in a dark hole too deep to escape from this time.

Zapata felt herself go cold as his words sank in. “Do you think Weller realizes that?”

Reade shrugged. “I doubt it, or Rich Dotcom wouldn’t have needed to trick him into marrying Jane.” He glanced toward the bedroom. “I’m pretty sure she does, though.” He hoped she would talk to Weller about it, but he was less certain of that.

 _There was no way in hell that was going to happen on her watch_ , Zapata thought fiercely, making a mental note to talk to Weller about it the first chance she got, shifting from reluctant teammate to determined protector in the blink of an eye. If anyone deserved to punish Jane, it was them.

Not that she hadn’t already suffered enough.

“Is that all your stuff?” she demanded when Jane emerged from the bedroom with a duffel bag that clearly had room to spare. Her go-bag for when the team travelled contained more than that. Weller obviously needed to take her on a serious shopping spree. Or she and Patterson did. Her eyes narrowed as an idea occurred to her, and a slow smile spread across her face as she realized it was time to bury the hatchet . . . and just how she was going to do it.

“Never mind, of course it is. Not exactly like you’ve had time to go shopping.” Though she was quickly warming to the idea of correcting that. Especially if it was on Weller’s dime.

She was quiet as they finished packing up the kitchen, though Reade knew her well enough to feel a shiver run down his spine at the imp of mischief dancing in her eyes. He grew even more nervous when she instructed him to take a detour on the way back. “I’m really not sure—”

“Just do it, Reade,” Zapata ordered impatiently. “There are a few things I need to pick up, and it can’t wait. I promise I won’t be long.” And it wasn’t like they had a case today anyway.

“Okay,” Reade grumbled as he pulled up in front of the mall, “but if we get busted for this, it’s your ass. I’m not taking the rap for you.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Zapata said cheerfully as she hopped out, “I can almost guarantee Weller won’t have anything to say about this.” With any luck, he’d swallow his tongue. “Jane, do you want to come along?” She held her breath, praying for Jane to say no. Her plan would work much better on her own, but it would look suspicious if she didn’t ask.

“No thanks.” Jane shook her head. This place was huge, and she suspected Zapata was a rabid shopper, as opposed to her, who preferred to go to the smallest store she could find, and then only when there was something she absolutely couldn’t live without.

“Your loss,” Zapata said, doing her best to look suitably disappointed as she shut the door and hurried toward the entrance. True to her word, she was back in just a little over thirty minutes, though she had been hard-pressed to resist the lure of several other stores she passed.

Reade’s eyebrows rose as she climbed back into the passenger seat, and he got a good look at the striped box she was carrying. “You really think buying lingerie is an appropriate use of FBI time, Tasha?”

In this case, she thought it was an _excellent_ use of FBI time. “Relax,” she advised him, frowning slightly at the stern look he shot her. “It’s not like Weller knew how long it was going to take us to pack up Jane’s place, and if he’d needed us, he would have called.” Besides, she had a plan to make it damn near impossible for him to object to what she had done.

And provide maximum enjoyment for her, of course.

Weller was just wrapping up his meeting with Pellington when they returned, and Zapata waited until he got in the elevator to leave, and she saw Jane go into Weller’s office to pick up the box she had secreted under her desk and followed her in there. It took everything in her to bite back her smile when Jane’s eyes widened to the size of saucers at the sight of it.

“I know I said I wasn’t going to get you anything for a wedding present, but then I realized it’s time to let bygones be bygones, so . . .” She held the box out to Jane, noting with satisfaction the heated look in Weller’s eyes before he speared her with a furious glare. The allure of gambling had never been stronger than at this moment. What she wouldn’t give to make a bet with Reade on how long it took before Weller saw Jane in one of the bra-and-panty sets she had painstakingly selected. “Here.” She shoved the box into Jane’s arms when the other woman made no effort to reach for it.

Weller swallowed hard. “I hardly think that constitutes an appropriate wedding gift, Zapata,” he said, his tone much less stringent than he had intended.

“I disagree.” Zapata shot him a carefully practiced wounded look as Jane lifted the lid off the box. “People buy lingerie as wedding gifts all the time, boss. And most of them have _much_ bigger wardrobes than poor Jane here. Why, she has so little stuff that it’s almost criminal. You really should let us take her on a shopping spree soon.”

“Fine,” Weller muttered distractedly, craning his head to try to see the contents of the box and unaccountably disappointed when Jane started to close it back up before he could get a good look. Fortunately, Zapata intervened.

“Here.” Zapata took the box back out of Jane’s hands and set it down on Weller’s desk, determined to wring every ounce of enjoyment out of this she could after the small fortune she had expended on it. She lifted the first of the sets from the box. “This one’s a little boring, I know—” though judging from the way Weller’s eyes lingered on it as she set it aside, he disagreed, “—but every girl should have a set in your basic black. I also got you one with a little more bling,” she added as she handed her another black set with a myriad of sparkles in varying colors adorning it.

“This one—” she lifted the emerald green set out next, “—this one will complement your eyes perfectly. Trust me, no guy will be able to resist you when he sees you in it.” Weller looked like he wanted to strip Jane naked and put it on her before ripping it off. “And finally—” she lifted out the candy apple red set that she had purchased on a whim because it brought to mind the analogy of waving the red flag in front of the proverbial bull, “—the piece de resistance.”

“It’s beautiful, Zapata,” Jane said quietly as she took the lacy underwear from her and ran her hand over the supersoft fabric. She had no use for it, of course, or any of them, since they were much too fancy to use for every day wear, and there was no point in using them for special occasions—if any of those arose—since she was the only one who would ever see them.

She didn’t want to examine why she was so unaccountably disappointed by that realization. “They’re all beautiful. Thank you.” She carefully placed them back in the box and closed the lid.

“You’re welcome,” Zapata assured her cheerfully. “And don’t worry about finding something to wear with them. Patterson and I will be more than happy to help you out with that this weekend.”

She breathed a sigh of relief as she exited the office. That had gone much better than she anticipated. She’d known if she got out of there without receiving a dressing-down that she was home free. Weller would have to bring up the subject again in order to reprimand her, and she had a feeling he would simply choose to let sleeping dogs lie.

And if they did so in a gorgeous set of lingerie, so much the better.

Jane hesitantly brought her eyes up to meet Kurt’s gaze. “Well,” she ventured, “I have a feeling this may be the most . . . interesting wedding present we’ve received.”

“Want me to transfer her to Alaska?” Kurt offered, only half-joking. He was grateful that Zapata seemed to be letting go of her grudge against Jane, but he was at a loss for why she had chosen to spend her money on such an outlandish gift when she knew their marriage was a sham. Unless she thought that Jane might model them for some other man in the future?

He felt a surge of unreasoning fury at the very idea.

Jane’s soft laughter snapped him back to reality, and Kurt’s brow furrowed as he recalled her earlier statement. “So this isn’t the first present we’ve been given? There are more?”

Jane couldn’t stop her eyes from darting toward her desk, and his jaw dropped as he followed her gaze and saw the mound of brightly wrapped gifts on and around it. “Agents began dropping them off shortly after you started your meeting with Pellington. We’re definitely going to have to make a few trips to the garage to haul them all out of here.”

From the looks of things, the best thing to do might be to stash them in his office and haul them home a few at a time. If they took them all home tonight, they’d spend the rest of the night unloading them, and they had more important things to do this evening.

They had the rest of their lives together to plan out.

Jane had no fault to find with that plan, and they quickly moved the gifts to a corner of his office, placing a few on the table near the door to take with them, Zapata’s among those. That box was entirely too distinctive to leave lying around. Especially since it was unwrapped.

An awkward silence fell between them when they’d finished as it fully dawned on them that when they left the office this time, they would be going home together as man and wife. “Well, Mrs. Weller,” Kurt teased to cover his nervousness, “I guess that’s that. Are you ready to go?”

“Ready when you are,” Jane agreed, pausing a beat before adding, “Mr. Weller.”

Both of them grinned like fools all the way to the elevator.


	5. Chapter 5

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

 

She’d forgotten what a wonderful cook Kurt was.

Jane sighed in satisfaction as she reached for a second helping of his spaghetti and snagged an extra piece of garlic bread as well. Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of Kurt’s satisfied smirk. “What? I skipped lunch today.” And breakfast hadn’t been much to write home about either.

“Jane . . .” Kurt’s smile instantly disappeared, and he covered her hand with his to get her attention. “You shouldn’t be skipping meals.” In fact, he was going to make it his personal mission to make sure she didn’t from now on. She was skinny enough as it was, and she needed to keep her strength up for the work they did.

Jane fought back the wave of defensiveness that swamped her. She could hear the genuine concern in Kurt’s voice, but she wasn’t used to having someone take care of her. She knew he meant well, but if there was one thing the past months had taught her, it was that she had to look out for herself. “I know. With everything that was going on today, I guess I just . . . forgot. I’m sorry.” Then she wondered why she was apologizing. It was her life and her choice, after all. One of the few she _could_ make.

“I know the feeling,” Kurt admitted ruefully. His stomach had rather forcefully reminded him that it was mealtime, or he probably would have skipped lunch himself. If Pellington hadn’t been in town, he would have taken the rest of the day off and absconded with Jane so they could work out the details of their . . . arrangement. Which he guessed they needed to do now. “So . . . I guess we should probably talk, huh?”

Jane twirled a bite of spaghetti around her fork. “Yeah.” She didn’t mean for that to come out _quite_ as unenthusiastic as she sounded. “Sorry. It’s just been . . . a long day.” For him too, no doubt. Despite his apparent unconcern for the potential consequences of his actions, she had a hard time believing he was as unworried as he let on. “Where should we start?”

Kurt hesitated. “You mentioned this morning that we needed to decide how long we’re going to stay married and if we’re going to see other people. I guess we should start with those two, but we also need to figure out what reason we’re going to give for ending the marriage.” Just so there would be no doubt, he added, “It needs to be something that will allow us to stay friends.” He didn’t want her to vanish from his life completely when this was over.

She had a feeling _friends_ was the very last thing she would be interested in being with Kurt by the time their marriage ended, but Jane simply nodded her assent. She would cross that bridge when she came to it. “What about telling people that we’ve _gotten_ married? Have you called your sister yet?”

Kurt winced. Sarah had been in the back of his mind all day, but he hadn’t exactly had time to figure out how to break the news to her. He was guessing, “Hi, sis. How are you? Oh by the way, I got married last week,” would not go over well. “No. I’ll give her a call when we get done here.” That was going to be an . . . interesting conversation. “I guess you probably didn’t get a chance to break the news to Roman yet either.”

Jane shook her head slowly. The way things stood between the two of them these days, she doubted he’d even care. Ever since she had come clean to him that she was the one who had wiped his memory, he’d spoken to her only when necessary. She didn’t blame him since she’d done it without his consent, and she understand all too well the hell he was going through because of her actions, but his hating her was a small price to pay for him having a chance at redemption. The way things had stood, he’d have wound up dead or in prison—though the latter was still a possibility since he had killed a half-dozen cops. There was simply no protocol for what to do about charging someone with a crime when they were quite literally a brand new person occupying the same body, and the debates about what to do about that were still ongoing and heated. “I thought I’d go by his safe house sometime tomorrow and tell him.”

“Would you like me to come with you?” Kurt offered hesitantly, wanting to be supportive but hoping he wasn’t overstepping his bounds. What was the etiquette for informing your fake wife’s brother you had married his sister without his knowledge or blessing? “We could go by his safe house on the way to work in the morning.

“Or not,” he added when Jane appeared to be struggling to formulate a response, a myriad of emotions crossing her face. “I can drop you off there, if you would prefer to talk to him al—”

“No!” Jane blurted, more touched by Kurt’s offer than she knew how to express. “No, I’d love for you to go with me.” Maybe with him there as a buffer, Roman would speak to her in more than monosyllables. “Thank you.”

Kurt felt warmth bloom in his chest at the smile she directed at him. “You’re very welcome, Jane. Besides,” he said ruefully, “I have a feeling you’ll be returning the favor before long. Something tells me that Sarah will be catching a flight back here the first chance she gets once she hears the news.”

“I’ll be happy to,” Jane assured him, even as she felt butterflies flutter in her stomach at the prospect. What had Sarah Weller been told about her? she wondered. “So . . .”

“So,” Kurt echoed when she fell silent. “I guess it’s time to figure out all the important details, huh? How long do you think we should stay married?”

“I, um . . .” Jane floundered as the question caught her off-guard. She had assumed he would give her his opinion on the matter, rather than asking for hers. Whether he realized it or not, the length of time didn’t matter in her case. “However long you think is fine with me.”

“I guess . . .” Kurt had been pondering that all day. “Maybe a year?” he suggested. “That would give plenty of time for the publicity to die down and be long enough for us to develop problems that would cause us to call it quits.” He ignored the niggling voice in his head that reminded him that anyone who knew them would never believe two such stubborn people would give up so easily.

Not on something so important.

From six months to a year in the blink of an eye. Scratch that. If they lived together for a year, it would be eighteen months before they could file for divorce. Eighteen blissful months in which she didn’t have to wake up every morning wondering if this was the day the CIA would get her back in their grasp. “That sounds reasonable,” Jane agreed. “I assume you’ll be wanting to see other people during that time? Once the publicity dies down, of course.”

Kurt frowned. “Actually, I was thinking that as long as we’re living together, we should avoid that complication. Why would you think I . . .?”

Jane shifted uncomfortably. “Why wouldn’t I?” she asked quietly. “In all the time I’ve known you, Kurt, you’ve never gone more than a few weeks without . . . someone.” Her lips ticked up briefly at his look of surprise. “You didn’t think I knew about Nas.”

“No,” Kurt acknowledged, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He couldn’t deny the validity of Jane’s words, but he wished like hell he had exercised better judgment. Rich was right, loath as he was to admit it. His feelings for Jane had confused the hell out of him, still did, to be honest, and both times she had come into his life, he had jumped headlong into a bed with a woman to avoid dealing with them.

“Nas was a mistake,” he admitted now. Honestly, as much as he cared about Allie and as excited as he was about the baby, sleeping with her had been as well. But at least she was a friend. Nas, on the other hand . . . He’d had his eyes opened wide to her true character in the aftermath of Sandstorm’s attack, and now he couldn’t fathom how he’d ever found her likable, much less attractive. “She wanted . . . she tried to turn you back over to the CIA after the attack. Claimed you must have deliberately fed us bad intel. I told her that was nonsense, but then I went to the hospital to check on Patterson, and she . . .”

She had called Keaton to come get Jane. If Patterson hadn’t woken up when she did, hadn’t told him that Borden was a mole and insisted he get back to the office . . . He drew in a shuddering breath. He’d arrived at the same time as Keaton, and when he’d mentioned that he was there to collect Jane at his girlfriend’s request, well . . .

 _Lost it_ was too mild a term to describe the hell he’d rained down on the man. Or the verbal tirade he had unleashed on Nas when Keaton had painfully picked himself up and limped away. Nas had accused him of being blind to Jane’s true character, but it was hers he’d ignored. She’d blackmailed Jane into this mission, had seen nothing wrong with taking lives to accomplish it, all of which made them no better than the people they were trying to stop and which flew in direct contradiction to his deeply held principles of morality and justice. Kurt still felt sick every time he thought of it. What the hell had happened to him? How had he allowed his life to go so far off the rails?

“It’s okay, Kurt,” Jane told him gently when he couldn’t go on. “I know you would never have been a party to that.”

“Do you?” Kurt asked. He appreciated her vote of confidence, but he was at least partially to blame for the torture she’d endured at Keaton’s hands the first time. The CIA might have taken her from them, but he sure as hell hadn’t fought for her. And it was only by the barest chance now that she wasn't in some deep, dark hole again enduring unspeakable things. A hole from which Keaton would have made sure that there was no escape from this time—and that they could never find her.

“I do,” Jane assured him, stretching her hand across the table to cover his, glad to see the old Kurt reemerging, but not wanting him to keep beating himself up for things that hadn’t happened or that he couldn’t change. “I don’t know what you did, but I’m sure it’s the only reason I’m sitting here with you tonight, so . . . thank you.”

As if on cue, they both looked down at their joined hands, and Jane pulled back after a moment. “Yeah, well . . .” Kurt said to cover the awkwardness of the moment, “now you know why I don’t want to see anyone else while we’re married. Honestly, I think it will be good for me to have to avoid that particular temptation for a while. But I’ll understand if you want to . . .”

Jane laughed. “I think I’ve got enough complications in my life right now without a boyfriend,” she assured him. “I tried that not too long ago, and it didn’t go so well.” She shrugged at his questioning look. “It’s kind of hard when you can’t explain your tattoos or tell them anything about yourself. Besides, as long as Shepherd is on the loose, I’d just be putting an innocent civilian at risk.” And she had enough regrets on her conscience as it was.

She rose and began stacking the dishes. “Since you’re clearly the cook in this marriage, I think it’s only fair I do the clean up. Although,” she added, “I wouldn’t mind learning. If you’re up for the challenge of teaching me sometime.”

“I think I can handle that,” Kurt agreed. He gathered up the leftovers and followed her to the kitchen. “But I’ll help you with the clean up tonight. Want to watch a movie when we’re done?”

“Oh, uh . . .” Jane bit her lip. “I should probably move my things into the guest room. But I don’t think that will take long, if . . . What?” she asked as she noticed a strange look cross Kurt’s face.

“Yeah, about that . . .” Sleeping arrangements had completely slipped his mind, or he would have realized . . . “I took the bed out of the guest room last weekend. I was planning to turn it into a nursery and . . .”

“I get it,” Jane assured him. “It’s okay.” She turned to begin filling the sink with water. “I can sleep on the couch.”

Kurt frowned. “Come on, Jane.” He gently spun her to face him and placed his hands on her hips. “We’re both adults. I think we can share my bed.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Unless you’re afraid you won’t be able to control yourself, that is.”

Jane snorted as she pointedly looked down. “From where I stand, you’re the one who’s having trouble keeping his hands to himself.” Her eyes were alight with laughter as they met his again, but that quickly faded at the intensity in his, and she forgot to breathe as the very air around them became supercharged with the attraction between them.

Her surroundings faded from view, and she forgot that they were playacting, forgot every reason this was a bad idea, as Kurt leaned toward her, or maybe they leaned toward one another, until there were only inches separating them, and then . . .

A knock sounded on the door.

Jane jumped slightly as Kurt stepped back, the spell broken. “Were you expecting someone?” she asked as she shut off the water.

Kurt shook his head. “This may come as a shock to you, Jane, but I’m kind of a workaholic, and most of my friends are my employees, so they tend _not_ to drop by after putting up with me all day.”

“Sounds lonely,” Jane commented without thinking, wishing as soon as she said it that she could take it back. No wonder he had been vulnerable to Nas’s manipulations, especially after everything that had happened with her and Taylor and his dad. She patted him on the arm, hoping he would realize that he wasn’t alone any longer. “In that case, I’ll get the door.”

“You’re not fooling me,” Kurt called after her. “You’re just trying to get out of doing the dishes.”

Jane chuckled as she opened the door. “Hello—” Her voice trailed off when she didn’t see anyone. She started to step out into the corridor to see if they’d gotten impatient and turned to leave, but her foot connected with something solid. “What the—”

A large basket with an equally impressive bow on the lid had been placed in front of their door. She would have thought it was a mistake except for the card on the bow that said, _Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Weller._ Clearly, whoever had brought it had intended it as a wedding present, Jane realized, her brow furrowing. But who were _they,_ and why hadn’t they stayed to deliver it in person?

“Jane?” Kurt called, hurrying toward her at her startled exclamation. “Who is it?”

“It’s not a who; it’s a what,” Jane told him as she knelt down and lifted the lid.

Her heart melted at the sight that met her eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

Rich had really done it this time.

Kurt stared at his wife, wondering how his life had gotten so out of control in the span of twenty-four hours. She was seated on the couch, cuddling their unexpected house guest and cooing to him, and he could practically feel her getting more attached to him by the minute. “Jane. We can’t keep him. You know that, right?”

Jane looked up, startled. She’d known Kurt wasn’t exactly pleased with Rich’s wedding present to them, but . . . “Why not? If you’re worried about him being more work for you, I promise that won’t happen. I’ll take care of him.”

“And how are you going to do that while we’re at work?” Kurt questioned, hating himself for having to be the voice of reason as her face fell.

“I’ll figure it out,” Jane muttered stubbornly. “How hard can it be? He’s so tiny and sweet.” The bundle in her lap squirmed, and her eyes softened as she rested her palm against his head.

“He won’t stay little for long,” Kurt said grimly, eyeing the puppy’s oversized feet. “He’s a Newfoundland, Jane. He’ll probably grow to at least one hundred fifty pounds. He’d eat us out of house and home before long. Not to mention, being too big for the apartment.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” Jane said softly, “but it’s just for a year. And I’ll pay for everything he needs.” The FBI gave her a small consulting fee, which should cover it if she was frugal. Starting with cancelling that shopping trip Zapata had arranged. Or at least not buying anything. It would be a small price to pay for a companion who loved her unconditionally. “Please, Kurt.”

 _Damn you, Rich_ , Kurt thought angrily as Jane turned pleading eyes on him. “I suppose we can give it a try for a week or two,” he agreed grudgingly, knowing even as he spoke that the dog was there for good. “But since he was a wedding present to both of us, I think it’s only fair we split the cost.” And if it was more sixty-forty, than fifty-fifty, he wouldn’t complain.

“So we’ll . . . what? Share joint custody of him when we split up?” Jane asked incredulously before realizing that there would be no custody of him for her when that happened, joint or otherwise. She could hardly go on the run with such a conspicuous dog, and it wouldn’t be fair to take him away from Kurt.

Kurt shrugged. “Why not? We’d hardly be the first couple to do so.” And it would provide him a convenient excuse for checking up on Jane. He gently took the puppy from her and held the black furball up to eye level. “Well, little fella, what are we going to call you?”

“I’ve been trying to think of names,” Jane confessed. “But so far, I’m drawing a blank.”

“There’s no rush,” Kurt reassured her as he handed the dog back to her. “The right one will come to us. But we probably should get a move on to the pet store before they close and pick up some dog food and a harness and leash for him.” Jane bit her lip, hesitating as she looked from him to the puppy, and he smiled. “You can bring him along.” It was one of the perks of visiting a pet store.

Though watching Jane quickly proved to be an even more entertaining one. She went up and down the aisles, her eyes wide as she surveyed the massive array of dog paraphernalia available for purchase. Needless to say, they came home with a great deal more stuff than just the basics Kurt had intended.

He was grateful for that foresight in the morning, however. “Jane,” he tried to reason as she stuffed a vast array of dog toys in the crate they had bought, “we’re only going to be at the office for eight hours or so.” Barring anything unforeseen, of course. “I think one or two toys should be plenty.”

“But we don’t know which ones he likes yet,” Jane pointed out reasonably, and Kurt gave up the fight. Patterson didn’t know it yet, but she was the designated dog sitter for the day. She was going to have a field day with this.

Reade and Zapata and Patterson were waiting for him in his office when they arrived, and they all did a double take at the sight of the puppy in Jane’s arms. “Who’s this?” Patterson cooed as she rushed over to them, reaching for the dog, and Jane obligingly placed him in her arms, smiling as Patterson giggled as he licked her face. “Aww. You’re a sweetie. Yes, you are. Yes, you are.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, Patterson,” Kurt told her. “because I need you to watch him today. He was an . . . unexpected wedding present from Rich Dotcom, and we’ll try to make other arrangements as soon as possible, but . . .”

“Sure, boss,” Patterson agreed, more than happy for the company. She hoped they didn’t have a case today, because she was going to find it difficult to keep her mind on work. “What’s his name?” She let him down, and he sniffed Zapata before turning his attention to Reade, looking up at him with a hopeful expression as he wagged his tail.

“Don’t look at me, dog,” Reade said, holding up his hands as he backed up. “I’m allergic to your kind."

“Aww, have a heart, Eddie,” Zapata teased. “He loooves you.”

The puppy barked just as Zapata said Reade’s name, and Jane and Kurt’s eyes met, a slow smile spreading across their faces as they came to a mutual agreement. “Eddie,” Jane told Patterson. “His name is Eddie.”

“Well, look at that, Reade,” Zapata joked. “You just got your first namesake. Congratulations. Some people go their whole lives without having a dog named after them.”

Reade just shook his head at her. “You’re just jealous because no one’s named one after _you.”_

Tasha was just about to respond when Reade’s phone rang, and his brow furrowed as he pulled it out of his pocket. “It’s Sarah,” he announced in confusion, wondering why she would be calling him. The two of them hadn’t spoken in months. “Hello?”

“Can you explain to me why my brother isn’t answering his phone?” Sarah asked in that bitingly cheerful tone that guys everywhere understood spelled trouble. “And why I’m sitting here reading the news of his marriage to _Jane_ in an article in the _Times_ online?”

“Uh . . .” Reade held the phone out to Kurt, whose expression signaled he already knew what the call was about. “It’s for you.”

Kurt held the phone up to his ear with a sinking heart. “Hey, sis. I was going to call you last night, but . . .” Eddie’s arrival had completely driven all thoughts of that from his mind.

“So it’s true?” Sarah asked, wounded. “You’re _married?_ And you didn’t think to invite your family, or even mention it to us? You didn’t even tell me you were _dating_ her.”

“It wasn’t like that, Sarah.” Kurt grimaced and looked at the team, signaling that he needed a little privacy, but he grabbed Jane’s hand when she tried to leave. “I would have invited you, but it was an undercover mission to catch a criminal, and since we had to apply for a marriage license as part of the operation, we just . . . we decided on the spur of the moment to make it real. I know I should have told you we were dating, but—” _I couldn’t because we weren’t really dating._

“You decided on the spur of the moment to make it real,” Sarah repeated flatly. “Kurt, you’re about to be a parent. You can’t make huge, life-altering decisions like that. Tell me, does Allie know about this? Did you discuss it with her at all?” His silence gave her the answer. “Are there any other surprises I should know about?”

“Well, we did get a Newfoundland as a wedding present,” Kurt responded, and Jane winced. She couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation, but she was pretty sure that was the wrong thing to say.

Sarah’s voice lowered dangerously. “You think this is a _joke?”_

“No, of course not,” Kurt told her, instantly contrite. “Look, Sarah, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you we were dating, and that I didn’t invite you to the wedding, and that you had to find out this way. You deserved better than that, and I . . . I’m really sorry, okay? I know this is a lot to take in, but I . . .” He reached for Jane’s hand, as if Sarah could somehow see them through the phone, “. . . I love Jane, and I really think you will too, once you get to know her. Maybe you and Sawyer could fly back East sometime soon and visit us.”

“I’d like that,” Sarah responded after a long pause. “And if you love Jane, I’m certain I will too. You’re my brother, Kurt. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy. I just . . . I wish I’d been able to be there to see it, that’s all.”

“Me too,” Kurt said quietly. “I know it’s not the same thing, but we did have a videographer record it.” Rich had insisted, “for appearance’s sake,” and it was the one thing for which he was grateful to the man. “Maybe when you come for your visit, we could all watch it together?”

Sarah swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I’d like that.” She hesitated. “Is Jane there? I’d like to talk to her.”

Kurt slowly held the phone out to Jane, and she hesitantly took it. “Hello?”

“Hi, Jane,” Sarah greeted awkwardly. “I just wanted to say congratulations, and . . . welcome to the family.”

“Thanks,” Jane said softly. “I’m . . . I’m sorry about . . .” _Screwing up your brother’s life. Potentially ruining his career._ “Kurt and I both wish you could have been here. If it helps, my brother lives right here in New York, and he . . . didn’t attend either. We haven’t exactly been . . . getting along very well lately.” And she wasn’t sure why she had just shared that with a total stranger. One who didn’t even know she _had_ a brother. But if she was surprised, she didn’t let on.

“That sucks,” Sarah said sympathetically. “Kurt and I went through a rough patch of our own when we were arguing about my dad’s involvement in Sawyer’s life when he was younger. Just keep reaching out to him. It will get better.” She paused. “Did you guys really get a _Newfoundland_ as a wedding present?”

Jane laughed as she responded, and the two women chatted for a few more minutes before she handed the phone back to Kurt. He shook his head at her when he ended the call. “The two of you are going to become the best of friends and gang up on me, aren’t you?”

“What’s the matter, Kurt?” Jane teased. “Afraid she’s going to tell me more embarrassing childhood stories about you?” She cocked her head. “Look at it this way. You’ve only got to put up with it for a year, and it will be good practice in case you ever decide to get married for real.” Her smile faded slightly at the reminder that what they had wasn’t. Waking up in his arms this morning had definitely challenged that perception, and she couldn’t afford to forget.

She couldn’t afford to lose her heart to him again.

She was just about to excuse herself to go check on Eddie when his desk phone rang. “Hello? Yes, I’ll accept the charges.” His brow furrowed, and he motioned her to his side as he put the phone on speaker. “It’s a collect call from prison. Three guesses who it’s from.”

“Wow, Stubbles,” came Rich’s voice. “With deductive skills like that, you really ought to consider being an FBI agent.” Silence greeted him, and he chuckled. He could practically see Weller grinding his teeth. “Did you like my present?”

“It certainly fits with your flair for the dramatic,” Kurt ground out.

“We love him,” Jane broke in, ignoring the look Kurt shot her. Rich always had a method to his madness, annoying as it might be, and she hoped to move things along before it escalated into the usual war of words, and Kurt hung up the phone. “Thank you, Rich.”

Rich’s voice warmed. “You’re very welcome, Janie. I know living with Stubbles there will be . . . challenging at times, so I wanted you to have someone who would love you unconditionally. And not to worry. I know you’re both very busy people, so I’ve arranged for doggie daycare for him for the rest of his life. You can take him by there in the morning; they’re expecting you.” He paused. “Well, I think that’s all for now. I’ll check in again with you next week to see how things are going. Bye, now.”

“I, uh . . . I think I’ll go check in on Eddie,” Jane said as Kurt hung up the phone and slipped out before he could comment, but before he had time to wonder if he should go after her, Zapata barreled in with an expression that spelled trouble.

She took the seat across from his desk and didn’t mince words as she laid out what was bothering her. Kurt felt his blood run cold as he listened, and he sat in silence for a long time after she left before rising and going in search of his wife.

It was time to renegotiate the terms of his marriage. _Again._


	7. Chapter 7

Kurt found Jane seated on the floor of Patterson’s lab, both of them giggling animatedly as they took turns playing tug-of-war with Eddie. He leaned against the doorframe and simply watched them for a moment, a slight smile tugging at his lips. The two of them were so engrossed in what they were doing it was several minutes before they registered his presence.

“Kurt!” Jane exclaimed, her smile fading as she caught sight of his serious expression. “Is . . . is everything okay?”

Not yet. But it would be. “Everything’s fine,” he told her with as much assurance as he could muster. “Since we don’t have a case, I thought I’d take an early lunch, and I was hoping you’d come with me. You can bring Eddie along if you like,” he added as she glanced at the puppy. “He could probably use a walk anyway. We’ll grab some takeout and eat in the car.”

Clearly something was on his mind, so Jane clipped Eddie’s leash to his collar and followed Kurt without protest. He said little until after they had gotten their food and driven to a nearby park. “Why didn’t you tell me about Keaton?” he asked as she took her first bite, and Jane nearly choked. God, what she wouldn’t give to never have to hear that name again.

“What is it you think I should have told you?” she asked carefully. Beyond the details of her torture, the details of which would only hurt him unnecessarily, he knew as much about Keaton as she did. Or she’d thought he had.

“Why didn’t you mention to me that you were worried about what he would do to you when our marriage ended?” Kurt demanded in a wounded tone. “You commented on it to Reade and Zapata. Don’t you think that’s something you should have talked to me about?”

“To what end?” Jane questioned wearily. “It’s not like you can do anything about it, Kurt. We reap what we sow, isn’t that the old saying? Well, I’m paying the price for my bad decisions, or I most likely will again eventually. I made my bed, and now I have to lie in it. But there’s no reason for both of us to worry about it. Reade shouldn’t have told you.”

The resignation in her voice tore at Kurt’s heart. “Actually, it was Zapata,” he corrected, and her eyes flew to his in surprise. “She’s still angry, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still care about you. We all do, Jane. And you’re wrong. I can do something about it, and I will.” If she would let him.

“Right,” Jane said cynically. She’d been worrying about this eventuality ever since her escape without coming up with a solution, and he’d found one in a matter of minutes? Yeah, right. “And what’s that?”

“You marry me,” Kurt said simply.

Jane leaned her head back against the headrest. “I could be wrong, but I seem to recall _already_ doing that. And I have the puppy and an assortment of high-priced underwear to prove it.” Not to mention a boatload of other wedding gifts that they had yet to take home.

Kurt’s eyes darkened at the reminder of that lingerie. He hated to admit just how many of his dreams had been about her in that since seeing it. “So we just . . . stay married. A little longer than we’d planned.”

Jane cracked open one eye. “Define ‘a little.’”

“Three years,” Kurt said instantly. “You’re eligible for a green card right now, but that’s how long it would be before you could apply for citizenship. And once you have that . . . you won’t have to worry about Keaton any more. You’d have documentation that would keep him from laying a finger on you ever again.”

Somehow she doubted a man like Keaton would be stopped by a simple piece of paper, but she was touched by Kurt’s offer.

“Of course, it’s possible that Shepherd adopted you legally, which would also make you a citizen,” Kurt rushed on. “If we find that out before the three years are up, we could get a divorce early.” He ignored the pang in his heart at the thought. He already liked coming home to her— _with_ her—far more than he should. Far more than he had expected to. But he had made a deal, and he would stick to it. Albeit for a bit longer than they had agreed upon. “All you need to do is say yes, and I’ll fill out the necessary forms to start the process tomorrow. Today, if I have time.”

Jane shook her head slightly as she glanced out the window. “No.” She couldn’t take advantage of his generous offer, despite the fact that she found it tempting almost beyond reason. And not because of the mythical security it would provide her against Keaton.

But because of the actual solace she found in being near him.

“Why not?” Kurt demanded in a wounded tone of voice. “Is marriage to me really so terrible that you’d rather risk torture again than extend it for a few months?”

“Of course not!” Jane hastened to assure him. “You’ve been . . . incredibly kind, Kurt. But we’re not just talking about a few _months_ here. That would extend it for three more _years._ Years you should be spending finding someone you can be truly happy with and have that big yard with all those kids you’ve always wanted. You _deserve_ that. I’m not your responsibility.”

“You’re my _wife,”_ Kurt reminded her. “We agreed that we’re in this together, remember? That this marriage would be mutually beneficial to both of us. Do you honestly think I could just divorce you and find happiness with someone else when I’d have to wake up every day wondering where you were and if you were . . .”

He broke off, his jaw clenching tightly at the thought of the horrors she had already endured. “I didn’t fight for you like I should have last time, but I’ll be damned if I leave you vulnerable to Keaton ever again. I’m filing the paperwork, Jane. I _want_ to do this. Not just because you’re my wife, or because you’re my _responsibility,_ but because you’re my _friend._ Whether you take advantage of it or not is up to you.” He glanced back out the windshield as he took a large bite of his sandwich, feeling her eyes on him as he chewed.

“You’re a good man, Kurt Weller,” Jane said at last. And the temptation to say _yes,_ to grasp onto the lifeline he was offering and never, ever let go was almost unbearable, but she couldn’t. Because she _didn’t_ want to let go. And if she stayed married an extra three years, she doubted she _would_ be able to.

They finished eating in silence and said little as they walked Eddie and then drove back to the office, Jane desperately searching her mind for a way to let Kurt down gently and Kurt equally determined to find a way to convince her to accept his proposal. They parted ways at the elevator and didn’t see one another again until it was nearly time to go home, when Jane was shepherded into his office by Reade and Zapata and Patterson.

Reade and Patterson exchanged glances at his questioning look. “We, uh . . . we got to talking this morning while you guys were out, and Patterson and I realized we were probably the only two agents in the building who hadn’t gotten you guys a wedding gift, so . . .” He pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to Jane.

“Seriously?” Zapata asked as Jane circled the desk to open it with Kurt. “You got them _gift_ certificates? Lame.” She’d expected a little—no, a _lot—_ more originality from the two of them.

“It’s not a gift certificate,” Kurt said quietly as he pulled out the piece of paper inside and scanned its contents. “It’s a week-long, all-expenses-paid stay at a B&B upstate. Starting Sunday.”

Zapata’s mouth fell open. “You paid for their _honeymoon?”_ Now that was a stroke of genius. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

“Yeah, umm . . .” Reade hesitated. “Patterson and I overheard some other agents speculating about when you guys were going to go on yours, and since this is supposed to be a love match and I figured you guys hadn’t thought of that, I decided to take care of it. We checked with Pellington and he said it would be fine, that he would come down and oversee things while you’re away.”

“Oh, I don’t think we can . . .” Jane began.

“It’s perfect, Reade,” Kurt interrupted. He hadn’t had a vacation in years, and the thought of the first being his _honeymoon_ with Jane . . . It felt much more right than he knew it should. “Thank you.”

“And my gift is that I’ll dogsit Eddie for you for the week,” Patterson announced brightly. “So you guys can go off and relax like you deserve and not worry about a thing.”

“And we’ll both take you shopping bright and early Saturday morning,” Zapata added with a pointed glance at Jane, whose shoulders slumped slightly at the reminder, determined not to be upstaged by the two of them. “Because you don’t have _nearly_ enough clothes for a week-long trip.” And the ones she did have weren’t at all suitable. Come to think of it, she didn’t even have a _suitcase._

“That’s an excellent plan, Zapata,” Kurt approved before Jane could find a graceful way to bow out. He’d been hoping she would follow through on her plans to take Jane shopping. He had a feeling his shopping habits mirrored hers to closely to be of much use, and he had no idea which stores women preferred anyway. He hadn’t even _started_ his Christmas shopping, and it was only a couple weeks away. And now he had an extra person to shop for. “Thank you. I’ll make sure Jane is ready to go.”

“Thanks a lot,” Jane muttered to him, and the group laughed.

They talked for a few more minutes before they all filed out to get ready to go home, but Zapata was surprised when Kurt asked her to stay behind. “What’s up, boss?”

“I’m, uh . . . I was going to give Jane my credit card Saturday, but on second thought, I think it might be better if I let you take charge of it,” Kurt told her. “I have a feeling Jane would just skip getting half of what she needs to spare me the expense, and I’d like for her to get some things she _wants_ as well. Make sure of that, will you? Within reason,” he added as Zapata’s eyes lit up with an avaricious gleam. “And if . . . if she sees anything she likes that would make a good Christmas present . . .”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Zapata promised him as she turned for the door with an extra spring in her step. This was going to be _so_ much fun.

Kurt glanced out at the bullpen and caught sight of Jane standing beside her desk. She smiled shyly as their eyes met, and they would have been amazed to know how in sync their thoughts were at that moment.

They were going on a honeymoon. Together. And they couldn’t wait to get it started.


	8. Chapter 8

Jane might have been thrilled at the idea of the honeymoon, but she was considerably less enthused at the shopping trip that preceded it. She glared at Kurt balefully as a knock sounded on the door at half past seven Saturday morning as she sipped her coffee. “I don’t suppose you could tell them that I’ve come down with a bug and don’t feel up to going?”

Kurt grinned at her as he started for the door. “I could, but I won’t.” Whether she liked it or not, this outing would be good for her. And in her own rough way, Zapata was trying to make amends. He didn’t want anything to derail that progress. “Morning, ladies,” he greeted as he opened the door, discreetly slipping his credit card into Zapata’s hand.

“It is now,” Zapata said with a grin as she placed the credit card in her purse. “I’ve always wanted to have carte blanche to spend my boss’s money.”

Kurt just shook his head at her, trusting in Jane’s frugality and Patterson’s common sense to keep Zapata’s overspending tendencies in check. He retrieved Jane’s coat as the ladies greeted her and bundled her into it before she could protest any further.

Jane sighed as she followed them out the door. “I don’t suppose we could just . . . go to Target?” The chorus of _no’s_ that greeted her suggestion was disappointing but not really unexpected, and she gave in with as much grace as she could muster as they laid out their own plans for the day.

And then they proceeded to ignore her objections entirely as they hustled her from one store to the next, purchasing more clothing than she was sure she would wear in a year, as well as expensive outerwear that they both insisted she would need for the honeymoon, and a small assortment of makeup and jewelry. Jane’s eye caught on one necklace that reminded her strikingly of the one Kurt had given her when he thought she was Taylor Shaw, and she gazed at it longingly, but she stood firm in her refusal to buy it, and for once, Zapata and Patterson didn’t press the issue.

It was after six o’clock before they returned her to the apartment, and Jane definitely felt like dropping after shopping with them all day. Kurt had clearly been productive as well, and Jane’s mouth watered at the aroma that met them as she opened the door. She was going to have to hold him to those cooking lessons he’d promised . . . and make sure some of his recipes accompanied her in the divorce.

“I can see you ladies have had a busy day,” Kurt said with a laugh as he rushed to take some of Jane’s bags before turning to help Patterson and Zapata as well. “I hope you’ve worked up an appetite. We’d love for you to join us for dinner.”

“We accept,” Zapata said promptly. “Besides, we still have to help Jane pack for the honeymoon.” And she’d barely had time to glance around when they were here this morning.

“Great,” Kurt said cheerfully as Jane tried not to gape at him. When had her normally taciturn husband turned into Martha Stewart? “Dinner still has about thirty minutes to go, so why don’t I help you carry these things into our room? It will be easier to pack in there.”

“Your room?” Zapata asked, leveling a curious look at Jane, who turned an interesting shade of pink as she glanced away. “You two are staying together? I thought—”

“Kurt had already started turning the guest room into a nursery,” Jane interrupted quickly as she grabbed an armload of bags. “Otherwise I would have moved in there.”

 _Of course you would have_ , Zapata thought with amusement. _For two weeks, tops._ She’d bet any amount of money that the bed-sharing wouldn’t be platonic by the time they returned from the honeymoon. Or if it was, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying on Weller’s part. His heart was in his eyes every time he looked at Jane, but she was more reserved. Zapata had caught several longing glances on her part in recent days as well, though, when she thought nobody was looking.

She and Patterson took charge of the packing as well, once again ignoring Jane’s protests about their selections, snipping the tags and placing the items in the suitcases with such efficiency that by the time Weller let them know dinner was ready, Jane was all packed.

Well, almost. Zapata discreetly pulled one more item from her purse as the other two women left the room and slipped it beneath a layer of clothes before zipping the bag up and following them out to the dining room.

“Wow,” she commented as she took a seat at the table, her mouth watering at the sight of the Cornish hens on a bed of wild rice, flanked by roasted green beans. “I heard you were a good cook, but you’ve really outdone yourself, boss man. Jane, you’re going to get fat if you’re not careful, eating like this all the time.”

“Hardly,” Kurt said with a laugh as he added more rice and green beans to her plate. “She hardly eats enough to keep a bird alive, but I’m working on that. I’ll get some weight on her if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Hey,” Jane protested, not sure whether to be amused or annoyed at his solicitousness, but letting the former win out, as it had nearly every time since they had found out they were married. Every day the feeling of loneliness that had been her constant companion for so long faded a little more, and the walls she had built up after her return continued to crumble. In spite of all the uncertainty surrounding her, for the first time she could remember, she was beginning to feel truly . . . happy.

And it scared the hell out of her.

Kurt wanted to get an early start in the morning, since it was a four-hour drive, and there was snow in the area, so they turned in not long after Zapata and Patterson left. She awoke tangled in Kurt’s arms just as she had every morning since their marriage, but today she didn’t immediately roll out of them. He was idly running his fingers through her hair, and she didn’t want him to stop.

The change in Jane’s breathing alerted Kurt to the fact that she was awake. “Morning,” he greeted. This was normally the part where she hastily put some distance between them, but to his surprise and delight, today she simply snuggled closer as she returned his greeting. “I suppose we should get up,” he said eventually when he could see she was beginning to fall asleep again. “How about I make us some coffee while you get the first shower?”

That had been their routine since they first began living together, and Jane nodded sleepily as she reluctantly left the shelter of Kurt’s arms and rolled out of bed. She showered quickly and pulled on her favorite of the new sweaters she had bought yesterday and a new pair of jeans before going to meet Kurt in the kitchen.

“Wow,” Kurt said as he caught sight of Jane in her new outfit. “You look . . . really nice.” _Beautiful,_ he meant, and he had never hated his awkwardness with words more than at that moment. He handed her a steaming mug of coffee. “Just the way you like it. I’ll go get ready and fix us breakfast, then we’ll hit the road.”

He hurried as quickly as he could, but despite his best intentions, it was shortly after nine before they took off. They drove in silence until they were on the outskirts of the city, and then Kurt turned the radio on to a station playing Christmas carols and began singing along. “Come on,” he said at Jane’s dubious expression. “Sing along with me. I’m not _that_ bad, am I?”

Slightly off-key was being generous, but Jane simply shook her head at him. “All right. Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?”

Kurt felt warmth bloom in his chest as Jane called him her husband, but rather than answer her, he simply grinned and launched into the next song.

His triumph was complete when, after a brief hesitation, Jane joined in.


	9. Chapter 9

They had been driving for nearly two hours when Kurt shut off the radio and turned to her. “Jane. We need to talk.”

“My five favorite words,” Jane joked, hoping to keep things lighthearted, but the serious expression on his face told her there was no deterring him. She sighed as she turned to face him. “What’s wrong, Kurt?”

“Have you . . .” Kurt hesitated. “Have you thought any more about my offer?”

She’d scarcely been able to think about anything _but_ that. “Of course I have. It’s _incredibly_ tempting, and it was beyond generous of you to offer, but have _you_ thought about the consequences?”

He looked at her blankly, and she sighed. “Marriage fraud is a _crime,_ Kurt.” She shouldn’t even need to tell him that. “You could face up to five years in prison and a huge fine, and that’s if they don’t tack on more charges like making false statements. Which I’m sure Weitz will do. He won’t miss a chance to make an example of the assistant director of the NYO.”

“That’s _only_ if they find out,” Kurt countered. “But if we get our stories straight, it will be nearly _impossible_ for them to prove. Jane . . . we can do this.”

“Nearly impossible to prove?” Jane asked in disbelief. “Kurt . . . if we start divorce proceedings the minute I become eligible for citizenship, you may as well hang a giant flashing neon sign above your head saying you’re guilty.”

He hadn’t considered that. “Okay, then we’ll stay married longer,” Kurt argued doggedly.

Jane simply shook her head at him. He had been like a dog with a bone since he took up her cause. And she shouldn’t have found that as endearing as she did. “ _How_ long, Kurt? We’ve already gone from six to eighteen months. Now you’re proposing adding, what, four years? five? to that?” That was longer than some people managed to stay together for real these days.

“However long it takes,” Kurt insisted. “Come to think of it, it would probably be best if we stayed married until after your citizenship is official. It would invite less questions that way.”

“Sure,” Jane agreed sardonically. “Why not? We could combine the ‘Welcome to America’ and divorce parties that way. Save money.”

Kurt hid his amusement at her sarcastic retort. “I’m being serious here, Jane.”

“So am I,” Jane told him, all traces of flippancy gone. “Kurt . . . even if we put on the most convincing act imaginable, INS will talk to our families and friends, our coworkers. Reade and Zapata and Patterson know we didn’t get married for the right reasons. Pellington knows. _Nas_ knows. We—”

“Has Nas bothered you in any way since we’ve been married?” Kurt demanded. “Because if she has . . . if she _does_ . . . I want you to tell me.” He was sure Pellington would back him in doing whatever was necessary to remove Nas from the NYO and sending her back to the NSA. Where she belonged. Intelligence sharing was one thing, but having to work with such an unscrupulous woman day after day grated on him. Pellington had suggested that it would be wise to have her where they could keep an eye on her, and Kurt had conceded that he had a valid point, but there were limits to his tolerance. Threatening his _wife_ was at the top of the list.

“No,” Jane assured him. “We’ve barely spoken to one another since then.” Though Nas’s eyes spoke volumes. She understood the phrase ‘ _if looks could kill’_ in a whole new way. “My point is that too many people know about this for it to work, Kurt. We might be able to write off anything Nas says as a disgruntled ex-lover of yours, but we can’t ask the team to put their careers on the line to lie for us. Or _Pellington._ There’s just no getting around the fact that we got married for the wrong reasons.”

Kurt winced at her description of Nas. He knew it was fair, but god, he still hated that his judgment had been so poor. He nodded slowly. “So we just need to convince INS that no matter why we _got_ married, we’re _staying_ married because we love one another.” It shouldn’t be that hard to do. He did lo-care deeply about Jane, after all, and clearly she felt the same about him, or she wouldn’t be so worried about his future.

“You never stop, do you?” she asked, echoing the question he’d once asked her. “Kurt . . .”

“I guess I don’t,” he parroted right back to her without missing a beat. “Jane . . . just think about it. That’s all I’m asking.” For the moment, at least. He would find a way to convince her, no matter what objections she raised. She wasn’t going back into Keaton’s hands while there was breath in his body.

For the rest of the drive, Jane did just that. Kurt clearly wasn’t going to let this go, and she was growing tired of being the rational one in this relationship when all she wanted to do was fling herself into his arms and say _yes._ After all, from her perspective, it wouldn’t be an act. She already loved him, so the odds that she could extricate herself from this marriage without getting her heart broken were nil anyway.

 _And she would make him happy,_ Jane thought defiantly as she chanced a sideways glance at his profile. _A darn sight happier than a lot of_ actual _wives made their husbands. For as long as he would allow._ She would do everything in her power to make sure he never regretted his selfless offer.

Kurt could see that Jane was deep in thought, her forehead creased with that little crinkle that he found endearing, and he didn’t speak again until they were approaching the outskirts of town. “We made good time, so we’re a little early,” he told her. “We can’t check into the B&B until three, so if there’s anything you’d like to see before then . . .”

“What about that?” Jane said, pointing to an approaching sign on their right. “Dynamite Hill Recreation Area. That sounds interesting.”

The sign said to take the next left, so Kurt obligingly flipped on his signal and made the turn, following the signs until he reached a large parking lot with surprisingly few spaces left. Clearly, they had stumbled upon a favorite attraction.

Jane was thankful for the cold-weather gear Zapata and Patterson had insisted on as they traipsed through the snow toward the sound of children shrieking with laughter. She paused on the edge of the hill and watched as children and adults alike whizzed down the slope on their brightly colored sleds. She’d seen such scenes on TV, of course, but to actually witness it in person . . .

Jane’s eyes were alight with an almost childlike wonder as she took in the scene before her, and Kurt couldn’t take his eyes off her as she drank it in. The simple amusements he’d taken for granted growing up were obviously completely foreign to her, or if she ever had gotten the opportunity to experience them, the memories were firmly locked away.

“That looks like fun,” Jane said, almost to herself, and the older couple she had paused beside turned to look at her.

“You’ve never been sledding, dear?” the gray-haired lady asked, surprised.

“No,” Jane told her, not taking her eyes off the laughing throng. “At least . . . not that I can remember. I have amnesia.”

“That’s a shame,” the woman said sympathetically. “Childhood memories are some of the ones I treasure the most.”

In her case, childhood memories were some of the ones she hoped most _never_ to recover. Jane smiled at the woman as Kurt wrapped a comforting arm around her waist. “Well, I’m here on my honeymoon, so I hope to start making new ones to treasure.”

“Well, this is a great place to do it,” the woman assured her. “And congratulations. We came here on our own honeymoon over thirty years ago, and the Adirondacks are still one of my favorite places to vacation.”

“I can see why,” Jane said. “It’s so beautiful and peaceful here.” She had been awed by the sight of the majestic mountains during the drive. She held out a hand. “I’m Jane . . . Weller, and this is my husband Kurt.”

“Nice to meet you,” the woman responded. “I’m Amy Matthews, and this is my husband Rob. And these two little scamps—” she motioned to the two boys she had been keeping an eye on who were trudging toward them, “are our grandsons, Jeremy and Joshua. Boys, what do you say you let these nice people borrow your sled for a couple of runs? If you’d like, I can even call my daughter and have her take some pictures of you.” She gestured to the bottom of the hill where a lone woman was standing with a camera snapping shots. “She’s quite a good photographer, if I do say so myself. And this way you’ll have memories to look back on that nothing can take away from you.”

Kurt’s first instinct was to say no, but Jane was looking up at him so hopefully that he didn’t have the heart to refuse. “If you’re sure it wouldn’t be any trouble . . .” he began.

“No trouble at all,” Amy assured him. “The boys could use a rest, and Susan loves to take pictures. It’s a favorite hobby of hers.” She quickly made the call to let her daughter know as Kurt helped Jane onto the sled. “Ready whenever you are.”

Kurt pushed off and quickly jumped on behind Jane, wrapping his arms tightly around her middle as the sled began to pick up speed, and they whizzed down the hill, her delighted shrieks making him laugh aloud himself. He'd forgotten just how much fun the simple pleasures in life could be. Or maybe it was who he was with that made this time so much more special.

They quickly made their way back up the hill to do it again, and this time Kurt laid down on the sled, letting Jane push them off, and she laid down on his back, holding tightly to him as they rocketed down the hill. “That. Was. So much fun,” she enthused, and he was struck by how different she looked at the moment, how young and carefree. It was as if the weight of the world had fallen off her shoulders, and he found himself wanting to see that look on her face much more often going forward. He would have to make time for the two of them to do something fun now and again.

“Congratulations, you two,” Susan said as she walked over to them. “Mom told me you’re here on your honeymoon. Would you like to see the pictures I took?”

“We’d love to,” Jane said happily, and Kurt moved closer to her as the two of them looked at the pictures on the camera screen. In the first few shots, she was leaning back into him as they careened down the hill. It was evident she was laughing, but what surprised him was the matching broad smile on his own face. He couldn’t remember the last time he had looked like that.

The next set were of their second run, and they sported similar expressions, though he had his head turned toward her slightly the entire time, making sure she was okay as he steered the sled down the hill.

“These are amazing,” Jane told Susan. “You’re really talented.”

“Thanks,” Susan said with a laugh, “but you guys made my job easy. You’re really photogenic, and it’s clear you’re very much in love. I predict many happy years ahead.” She busied herself shutting off the camera and pulling out the memory card, not noticing the awkward silence that fell between Jane and Kurt. “Here.” She held the card out to them. “I make it a point to carry a lot of these with me wherever I go, so you can have this one. I insist,” she added when they started to protest. “Consider it my wedding gift to you.”

“Thank you,” Jane and Kurt chorused as Kurt took the card and carefully zipped it into a pocket of his jacket. “We really appreciate this, Susan.”

The three of them made their way back up the hill side by side, but this time as they walked, Kurt reached for Jane’s hand and held it tightly the entire time. She felt warmth bloom in her chest at the small gesture, and she couldn’t help but hope it was a sign of even better things to come.

This honeymoon was off to a great start.


	10. Chapter 10

It was nearly four by the time they reached the B&B. They had lingered at the recreation area to explore after they finished sledding, finding a short nature trail they were tentatively planning to return to hike and a covered ice rink that they were _definitely_ going to be spending some time at. Jane had positively glowed when Kurt mentioned that he knew how to ice skate and offered to teach her.

Jane’s mouth fell open as she caught sight of the lavish country inn. When Kurt had explained to her what a B&B was, she had been expecting a large house, but this place was more hotel than family dwelling, opulent but at the same time possessing a rustic country charm that instantly appealed to her. She just knew that the grounds would be beautifully manicured under the layer of snow blanketing them, and she smiled as she caught sight of the misty lake in the background before returning her attention to the building. The twinkling of the Christmas lights made her feel instantly at home, and she was out of the car almost as soon as it had come to a stop, turning this way and that as she attempted to take it all in.

Kurt chuckled as he hastened to join her. “I take it this place meets with your approval.”

“How could it _not?”_ Jane asked in wonderment. “It’s _breathtaking.”_

 _So are you,_ he thought as she twirled around again, and suddenly the week before him seemed interminable. How had he ever thought a platonic honeymoon was a good idea? If ever two concepts didn’t go together, it was those. How was he ever supposed to survive a week where the two of them spent every waking—and sleeping—moment together and not give in to the urge to hug her and kiss her like he wanted to? To make love to her?

He tried to put those thoughts out of his mind as they checked in, but his first glimpse of their room brought them back full-force. It was spacious and tastefully furnished, but unlike at home the bedroom and sitting areas were combined. Which meant that they would be living practically on top of one another the entire week with nowhere to go when the other was bathing. Or dressing. Or _undressing._

Jane was delighted with their accommodations. “It’s beautiful,” she exclaimed to the woman who had shown them to their room. The rustic furniture perfectly complemented the setting, and there was a fire blazing in the large stone fireplace. Rose petals were strewn throughout the room as well and all around the Jacuzzi in the bathroom.

“I’m glad you like it, dear,” the woman told her. “Your friend payed for our honeymoon package for the first two nights, and a romance package the remaining four, so there are chocolate-covered strawberries for you to enjoy—” she motioned to the plate on the table beside a bouquet of roses, “and you also get a candlelit dinner each night in our dining room. Your reservation tonight is at seven. Oh, and we’ll be serving you breakfast in bed in the morning. Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Weller.” With a last smile, she slipped out to give the two some privacy.

Jane grinned at Kurt as she set her bags down. “It still sounds strange to hear people call me that. _Mrs. Weller._ ” She’d figured they would be divorced before she ever got used to it, but now . . . She walked over to the table and inspected the strawberries. “These look good. I don’t think I’ve ever had a chocolate-covered one before.” She glanced over at him as she bit into one and was startled to find his eyes already fastened on her with a thrilling intensity. Perhaps she had been too hasty to dismiss Zapata’s assertion that Kurt was still interested in her.

She decided to test the waters a bit. “Do you want one?” she asked as she held the plate out to him, keeping her eyes locked on his as she slowly, deliberately, finished the remainder of her own berry. This time she was certain: the flash in his eyes was definitely desire. Good.

Oh, he wanted one, all right. He wanted her to feed him one. He wanted to feed the rest _to_ her. In bed. Right before he . . . Jane cleared her throat, and Kurt belatedly realized she was still waiting for an answer to her question. “No,” he said, much more gruffly than he had intended, softening his response with a brief smile before moving to stare out the window at the backyard. The hunger he felt wasn’t one that could be sated by mere food. Unfortunately, that was all that was on the menu.

Jane hid her smile as she set the plate down and moved to join him. There was no way she was letting him put distance between them now that she knew he felt the same as she did. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked as she slipped an arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. He stiffened, and for a moment she thought he was going to push her away, but then he relaxed and pulled her into his arms.

Kurt couldn’t contain his surprise when Jane hugged him. She hadn’t initiated this level of physical contact since he’d handed her over to the CIA. He’d honestly never thought she would again. “It is,” he agreed, referring to more than just the snow-covered lawn. He pressed a kiss to the top of her hair and rested his chin atop her head for a moment.

And then he dropped his arms and stepped back.

Kurt could feel Jane’s confusion as he turned away and hefted the first of his suitcases onto the bed. “I, uh . . . Dinner will be here before we know it, so we should probably get unpacked before then. We can explore this place a little afterwards.” Anything to escape this room for as long as possible.

If that was how he wanted to play it, she’d let him—for now. Up to a point. “Okay,” Jane agreed as she opened her first suitcase, “but if we’re going to fool the INS into thinking we’re really married, Kurt, we should probably use this week to get more . . . comfortable with one another. Don’t you agree?”

Kurt’s head snapped up at her words. Her eyes met his innocently enough, but he could have sworn there was just a glimmer of a twinkle in their green depths. “You mean . . .” His voice was hoarse, and he had to clear his throat twice before he could go on. “You’ve decided to take my offer? To stay married?”

 _Temporarily,_ he reminded himself as he heard the hope in his voice. This was only temporary. He knew it was the height of insanity to want to remain tied to the object of his desire when she would never reciprocate his feelings after everything that had happened, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He would rather keep her tied to him as a friend in this platonic marriage than lose her entirely to another man.

“The idea is . . . growing on me,” Jane admitted. More and more with every passing second. “But I think if we’re going to do this, we’re going to need to be more . . . intimate with one another. More . . . open about our feelings. Don’t you agree?”

All he heard was the word _intimate._ Which brought to mind the very vivid dreams he’d been  having of her in the lingerie Zapata had bought her. Not an image he needed right now. “Uh . . . sure,” Kurt said hastily as he picked up an armload of shirts and headed to the closet to hang them up.

Jane scooped up a pile of her own tops and followed him. She didn’t notice the box that fell to the floor as she did so, and they worked in companionable silence for several minutes. She took every opportunity to brush up against Kurt, noting with amusement how he always leaned into her touch before catching himself and putting some distance between them once more. He was fighting her, but it was a losing battle.

Kurt finished before her and turned back toward the bed, but he froze when he spotted a box on the floor on her side of it. A very familiar box. He bent down and picked it up. “Jane? Why did you pack condoms?”

Jane hung her last top just as Kurt said her name in a tone of voice that clued her in that something was up. “I didn’t,” she said as she walked over to him and took the box from his hand. “Zapata must have slipped them in there.” She’d been the last one out of their bedroom after they finished packing.

Kurt’s eyes narrowed at her matter-of-fact tone of voice. “And that doesn’t . . . bother you?” He’d expected her to be more upset at the idea that one of their coworkers was attempting to induce them to sleep together. Well, to do more than just _sleep_ together.

“Why should it?” Jane shrugged. “It’s condoms, Kurt, not a poisonous snake. Totally harmless.” She set the box on the nightstand and returned her attention to her suitcase, lifting out the lingerie Zapata had bought her that she insisted she bring along. “You know, Zapata did mention on our shopping trip yesterday that you’d been like a bear with a thorn in his paw to a number of agents lately.” Several times, in fact. She had probably packed the condoms in hopes that he would return in a better frame of mind. “What’s up with that?”

Kurt’s eyes tracked Jane as she carried the underwear to the dresser and placed it in the top drawer. “It’s nothing. I’ve just been a little . . . stressed lately.”

“Oh yeah?” Jane took a seat at the foot of the bed near him. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Kurt muttered as he took his own underclothes and placed them in the drawer below hers. She had left plenty of room in the drawer beside hers for him, he’d noted, but somehow it felt just a little too intimate to have their undergarments side by side like that.

And he would be damned if his underwear got to touch hers, and he didn’t.

Jane sighed. “This isn’t going to work if we’re not honest with one another, Kurt. You can’t just bottle up all your feeling inside all the time. It’s not healthy, and I certainly don’t want to have to do that. I want to be able to confide in you when something is bothering me, but I won’t be able to do that if it’s not a two-way street. I—”

“I want you, okay?” Kurt burst out. “I know I have no right to feel that way, and I certainly don’t expect you to feel the same after I handed you over to the CIA, but being close to you lately and not being able to touch you has been torture for me.” Waking up with her in his arms morning after morning was the most exquisite hell he’d ever endured, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world. He gestured around them. “And now we’re going to be cooped up together this week in here, and I—mmph.”

Jane stood and pressed her lips to his, effectively stopping him from talking. Kurt was so stunned for an instant that he stood stock still, not even kissing her back, and then instinct took over as his arms tightened around her, crushing her to him, and his mouth devoured hers.

They were both breathing heavily when they finally broke the kiss, and Jane smiled tenderly up at Kurt as he gazed at her with dawning wonder in his eyes. “I want you, too,” she told him simply. “And the past is the past. It’s forgiven. So . . .” she drew out the word, “. . . what do you say we finish the unpacking later and get this honeymoon started right? Take me to bed, husband mine.”

Kurt’s hands came up to frame her jaw as he leaned in for another kiss. “Jane,” he whispered when he was finally able to tear his lips from hers, “you know if we do this, it will . . . change things, right?” If they did this, he would never, _ever_ be able to let her go. She would truly be his till death did them part.

“I know,” Jane agreed. They would essentially be married friends with benefits, which would complicate things between them immensely and make it nearly unbearable for her when the time came for them to part, but she would rather live with the bittersweet memories she would store up than regret never having made them. She took his hand and led him to the bed. “Make love to me, Kurt.”

Kurt held her gaze for a long moment, and whatever he saw there must have reassured him because he hastily yanked their suitcases off the bed and tossed them out of the way on the floor. Then he was kissing her again, and she could think of nothing else except the way his lips felt on hers, the taste of him, the gentle slide of his tongue against hers.

His hands slid beneath her shirt, and she lifted her arms so he could remove it completely, smiling at his groan when he caught sight of her bra and realized she was wearing the most functional of the lingerie sets Zapata had bought. Then it was her turn to moan as his hand came up to cup her breast, his thumb brushing over a nipple.

They shed the remainder of their clothes eagerly, happily. Somehow what was happening between them felt too right to be shy about baring their bodies to one another, to be concerned about the lack of romance leading up to this. _He would make up for that later,_ Kurt promised himself as he lifted Jane onto the bed and followed her down. _She deserved all of that, and more._

As frenetic as everything had begun, time seemed to stand still once they were both lying next to each other. Jane had expected Kurt to be as impatient a lover as he was a leader, but instead he slowed things down, kissing and caressing every inch of her with a thoroughness that was nearly her undoing before he pushed her over the edge that first time.

His tenderness brought tears to her eyes, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from uttering those three little words— _I love you_ —as he joined their bodies for the first time, and they truly became one flesh. Here, as before, he refused to be rushed, setting a slow and gentle pace, making love to her as she had asked, wanting this first time to be memorable. Wanting to be everything she wanted and needed for the rest of her life.

 _How was she ever going to live without this?_ Jane wondered as she felt the pressure building inside her. _How had she_ ever _lived without it? Without_ him? Their first time together, and somehow she knew instinctively, even without her memories, that it had never been like this. That what they had was special, rare, and it would never be like this with anyone else. At least not for her. She sped up the motion of her hips and Kurt met her thrust for thrust, neither of them able to hold back any longer, and they came together, clutching one another tightly, their hearts beating as one.

They were together, and they were in love, but in some ways, they had never been further apart.


	11. Chapter 11

Jane didn’t appear to have moved a muscle when Kurt returned from disposing of the condom, and he grinned as he slid back into bed next to her. “I have to admit,” he told her as he gathered her close, “this is one activity I thought I would _not_ be experiencing on our honeymoon.”

Jane smiled blissfully as she cuddled into him. This was one activity she had thought she would _never_ get to experience with him. That he didn’t want her in that way any longer. “Well, I hope you’re not _too_ disappointed,” she teased.

Kurt chuckled as he wrapped an arm around her. “Only by the fact that we have to _leave_ this bed soon to get dressed for dinner.” He ran a hand up and down her spine, smiling when she shivered a little and pressed closer to him. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one who would be more than happy to remain here.

“But just think how happy you’ll be to return,” Jane shot back without missing a beat. At least she hoped he would. That it had been as good for him as it was for her, and he would continue wanting her. He certainly seemed happy now. She drew idle patterns on his chest as she waited for him to respond.

Kurt stilled Jane’s hand as her featherlight touch caused desire to begin coursing through him again, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to it. “You are definitely not leaving this bed for the rest of the night once we get back,” he promised in a gravelly voice, relieved to see her passion matched his own. None of his fantasies had even come close to the reality of how good they were together.

They lay there in silence together for some time before Jane glanced at the bedside clock. “I suppose we should get up and get ready,” she said reluctantly.

“In a minute,” Kurt said, not willing to let her go just yet. In fact, it was almost ten before they managed to extricate themselves from one another and begin getting dressed. The dress code was business casual, but Kurt reluctantly donned a tie when he saw the dress Jane had picked out to wear, a long-sleeved dress that was modest enough to cover most of her tattoos and yet still incredibly sexy. Or maybe it was the wearer who made it that way. “You look beautiful,” he told her as he zipped the dress up for her.

“Thanks,” Jane said as she turned around and fiddled with his tie, making several adjustments until she was satisfied.

Kurt grinned at her. “Keep practicing, and you’ll have your wifely duties down in no time.”

“Wifely duties,” Jane repeated in a tone of voice that any sane man instantly knew spelled trouble. “And what, exactly, do you consider those to be, Mr. Weller?”

“Oh, you know . . .” Kurt matched her mock serious tone. “Allow me to escort you whenever you feel like going out for a night on the town. Eat enough of the dinners I fix you. Let me make love to you on occasion. Things like that.”

“Hmm.” Jane pursed her lips, pretending to think about it. “You drive a hard bargain, but I think I can agree to those terms. We’ll give it a trial run at dinner tonight and see how it goes.”

“Fair enough,” Kurt agreed as his smile widened. The scene was already going to be set for romance, and he could be charming when he put his mind to it. This was going to be like taking candy from a baby.

He kept his hand on the small of Jane’s back as he escorted her into the dining room, and pulled out her chair for her at their table. Jane smiled at him as he took the seat across from her, suddenly nervous despite the intimacy they had just shared. The fancy table settings, the candlelight . . . it all felt surreal, and even though she was dressed up enough to fit in, she felt out of place. This was something meant for a couple sharing their hearts and not just their bodies.

Kurt had no such reservations. He’d had his share of dinners in fancy restaurants, and while he wasn’t instantly at home, he didn’t feel out of place either, and his self-assurance gradually put Jane at ease. He picked up the wine list almost immediately, studying it carefully and consulting Jane on the ones he thought sounded the best, and once they had narrowed it down to two reds that he thought would pair well with their steaks, he made the final selection.

Their dinner was a three-course meal, and not only did they choose the same main course, they each opted to start with a salad with cranberries and macadamia nut praline. Jane’s eyes closed as she took her first bite, and an expression of pure bliss descended on her face. “Mmm. This is . . . Can you make something like this? Can you teach _me_ to make it?”

“Absolutely,” Kurt assured her. He didn’t have a recipe, but he would damn sure be finding one first thing when they got back. He would walk to the ends of the earth to get it if he had to, just to see that expression on her face again. With any luck, he could put it back on her face _after_ dinner.

Jane grinned at Kurt as she took a sip of her wine, but it quickly faded. But not because she was unhappy. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“Jane?” Kurt asked as her expression turned serious, and she began idly running a finger around the rim of her wine glass. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” She smiled at him and reached across the table for his hand when that didn’t reassure him. “It’s just . . . I suddenly realized that I'm . . . happy. Really, truly, honest-to-God, bone deep . . . happy. I can’t remember ever feeling like that before. And I know it’s a terrible time to be saying that, with everything that’s going on, but—”

“Jane.” Kurt turned his hand in hers and squeezed hers tightly. “I’m happy too. More than I’ve been in a long, long time. I . . .” He choked back the words he wanted to say, thinking it might be too soon for them. He needed to _show_ her how he felt, convince her he was going to be around for the long haul. Prove he was worthy of her trust and love after all he had put her through. “You make me so happy.”

Color tinged Jane’s cheeks, and she smiled at Kurt shyly before turning her attention back to her salad. They chatted companionably about a variety of light topics throughout the remainder of the meal, and when Jane couldn’t decide between the crème brulèe and a chocolate mousse, Kurt gallantly insisted they order both and split them.

She couldn’t help but notice that he gave her the bigger portion of both when they arrived, and she laughingly protested. “I’m going to get fat in no time at this rate.”

“Hardly.” Kurt gave her a pointed perusal that set the blood thrumming in her veins. “You’ve put on a few pounds since we got married, but you could still stand to gain a few more. Besides . . . I intend to see to it that you burn off all these calories tonight.”

Jane nodded seriously. “I suppose I could use a nice long walk after this meal.” She laughed at the look of mock disbelief he shot her. “What? You did say we’d explore the place after dinner.” She glanced at the bookshelf behind them. “Maybe we should start by picking out books to read when we get back to the room?”

Kurt bit back a chuckle. He loved that Jane felt comfortable enough with him now to tease him like this. He’d missed this playful side to her personality. Even if it was entirely clear to him that, like him, the only thing she was interested in reading was their responses to one another. “That’s a good idea.”

“Nothing like drifting off to sleep to a good book,” Jane agreed, thrilled to see that warm twinkle back in Kurt’s eyes as he looked at her. She’d seen flashes of it here and there since her return in unguarded moments, but his guard was down now, and the look lingered. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed it until it returned for good.

“Oh, I can think of _one_ method that’s better than a book,” Kurt assured her in a gravelly tone. “It guarantees an _excellent_ night’s sleep, in fact. Maybe you’ll let me . . . demonstrate?”

“I think that can be arranged,” Jane said as they rose from the table, and Kurt instantly reached for her hand. “ _After_ we change into comfortable clothes and explore a little.” She wanted to savor the anticipation of their next encounter, enjoy simply _being_ with him without any worries hanging over their heads, for the first time since they had known each other. For the first time that she could _remember._

As soon as they left the dining room, Jane leaned her head against Kurt’s shoulder, and he dropped her hand to wrap an arm around her waist. “I like this,” she said contentedly as they walked. “Being married, I mean. Not just the sex, but . . . having someone to come home to. Talk to. Do things with.”

The loneliness in that statement tore at his heart, and Kurt silently vowed that Jane would never experience it again. “Me too,” he assured her. He furrowed his brow as if he were deep in thought as he looked at her. “Although, I have to admit, the sex may be my favorite part,” he teased.

It wasn’t, though. Not even close. It was the cuddling afterwards, the companionship and laughter. The sense that he’d found something precious he hadn’t even known he’d been missing. “Dammit.”

Jane came to an abrupt halt and looked up at him worriedly. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

“I just realized Rich was right,” Kurt said sheepishly. “He really did do us a favor. But he’s going to be insufferable when he finds out we’ve figured that out.”

Jane chuckled. “As opposed to how he is now?” She smiled when Kurt tilted his head, acknowledging the truth of her words, and then grew serious as she thought about it. “I think I’m going to thank him. He won’t be expecting that, and it might catch him off-guard. Take some of the wind out of his sails.”

Either that, or make him more impossible than ever. Not that it mattered. “We’ll do it together,” Kurt told her, smiling at her look of surprise. “We’re partners, remember?” Something he was gaining a new and deeper appreciation of than he’d ever had before. Which was as it should be, since they were partners for _life_.

“Partners,” Jane echoed, snuggling a little closer to Kurt as they made their way back to their room.

Kurt unzipped her dress for her before heading into the bathroom, and when he came back, she was curled up on the rug beside the fire in just her underwear, staring into the flames as if mesmerized. “Hey,” he said as he swallowed a bolt of lust at the sight, expecting her to be dressed. “I thought you wanted to go out.” She wouldn’t be going anywhere if she didn’t put some clothes on soon.

“I changed my mind,” Jane said as she watched the fire crackle. “It’s so warm here I don’t want to move.” She held out a hand. “Come join me.”

“Hold on a sec,” Kurt told her. He grabbed the comforter off the bed and folded it in half, and Jane shifted as she realized his intention, moving out of the way so that he could lay it down in front of the fireplace, creating a makeshift bed for them. She laid down on it, and he stripped down to his boxers and grabbed a condom off the nightstand before moving to join her, laying the condom within easy reach and settling in behind her spoon fashion.

Jane smiled as Kurt wrapped his arm around her, and she laid her head back against his shoulder. “I see you came prepared,” she commented, making a mental note to see a doctor about a more permanent solution to birth control when they returned home. She had a feeling they were going to need it.

“Boy Scout motto,” Kurt teased back as he nuzzled her neck, feeling his blood rush south as she shivered and wiggled back into him.

“You were a Boy Scout?” Jane gasped out. God, it was amazing how much he could arouse her with such a simple touch. She was torn between wanting him again immediately and wanting to learn more about him. Curiosity won out, and she rolled to face him.

“For a few years,” Kurt told her with a fond smile of remembrance. “Until I got sent away to military school.” He nodded to the fire behind them. “My favorite part was the camping trips. We’d roast marshmallows on a fire and make s’mores, and then tell ghost stories.”

“That sounds like fun,” Jane said wistfully. She was glad Kurt had _some_ happy memories of his childhood. She wished she had even _one._ “What are s’mores?”

“You’ve never had a s’more?” Kurt propped himself up on one elbow, realizing even as he asked what a silly question that was. “Never mind, of course you haven’t. We should make some while we’re here. We need to go to the store tomorrow anyway, so we could pick up all the ingredients. Can’t have you going through life without ever tasting one.”

“I’d like that,” Jane told him. “Wait, why do we need to go to the store?”

“Well,” Kurt said sheepishly, “that box of condoms is pretty small. I was thinking we’d probably need a few more before this week is over. And if not, we’ll definitely need them when we get home.”

“Actually, I was just thinking about that,” Jane commented. “I’d like to talk to a doctor about more long-term birth control options, so we don’t have to worry about them. But we should definitely—” she leaned over to kiss him and took advantage of his preoccupation to flip him onto his back, grinning down at him as she placed her hands on his chest, “— _definitely_ make sure we have enough while we’re here.”

“I like the way you think,” Kurt said as he snaked a hand behind her neck to pull her down for another kiss, deftly unsnapping her bra as he did so. She shrugged it off her arms and tossed it aside without breaking the kiss.

They were both breathless when they finally drew apart, and Jane sat back on Kurt’s thighs as her gaze raked over him appreciatively. He had made her feel sexy and wanted and cherished earlier, and she wanted to return the favor.

She cupped his cheek, smiling when he turned his head to press a kiss to her wrist, before her fingers traced a path down his jawline to the faint scar where the shrapnel had nicked his jugular. “I was so scared that day,” she murmured as she pressed an openmouthed kiss to the spot. “You were the best friend I had, and I thought I was going to lose you. And it would be all my fault.”

“Jane.” Kurt pulled her down to him and ran a hand up and down her spine tenderly. “You didn’t. And it wouldn’t have been.”

That was debatable, but Jane didn’t argue, sitting back up and turning her attention to the next scar she could find, a jagged white line on his bicep that she was guessing had come from a bullet. She gave it—and all the subsequent war wounds she found—the same treatment as she worked her way down his body, asking him to tell her about each. She removed his boxers as she went, and by the time she finished he was panting, clearly more than ready for her.

She knelt at his feet and removed her own panties before crawling back up his body to straddle his thighs once more. Kurt fumbled for the condom to give to her, and she ripped it open, but didn’t immediately put it on, taking him in her hand and stroking him, gently at first and then with more pressure. “Jane,” he groaned when he felt himself getting close, reaching a hand down to stop her. “I want to be inside you when I come. Let me—”

“I’m ready,” Jane assured him as she applied the condom and raised up, reaching a hand between them to guide him into her and sinking down oh so slowly. She took a deep breath once she was fully seated, resting there a moment to allow them both to bask in the sensation of being so intimately joined, before she began to move.

Kurt’s hands came to rest on her hips as she placed her hands on his chest and began writhing over his body, but he allowed her to dictate the pace until he couldn’t restrain himself any longer, surging up into her with a desperation he was powerless to control. He had never needed any woman more, their connection feeling as much spiritual as physical. He came first, breathing out her name as white light exploded behind his eyes, and she followed a second later, collapsing onto him as her inner muscles clenched around him until they were both spent.

They lay in companionable silence for quite some time before Kurt gently lifted Jane off him to go dispose of the condom. She still hadn’t moved when he returned, and he gently kissed her forehead as he lifted her in his arms and slid her beneath the sheets before returning the comforter to its rightful place and joining her.

She immediately curled into him until there was no space left between them, and her breathing evened out so much he thought she was asleep. He was just drifting off himself when she sighed. “Jane. What is it?”

“I was just thinking,” she murmured. “As happy as I am right now, our relationship is going to make a lot of people _un_ happy.” Like Nas. And Keaton. And _Shepherd._

“Not necessarily,” Kurt countered instantly, though he knew she was probably right. He didn’t even want to envision Nas’s reaction when she realized they had consummated their marriage. “And if it does, that’s their problem. We’re the ones in this relationship, so our opinions are the only ones that matter.”

That was oversimplifying the problem, but Jane let it slide. She didn’t really want to worry about any of that now anyway. This was her honeymoon, and she was in the arms of the man she loved, and she had never been happier. “We’re partners.”

“That’s right,” Kurt agreed. “And whatever problems arise when we return, we’ll face them together. _All_ of them.” Her days of having to fight alone for everything she believed in and everyone she loved were over. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Now get some sleep.”

Jane shifted until her head was resting on his chest and she could hear the beat of his heart, and fell asleep with a smile on her lips, the two of them so tangled up in one another that they couldn’t tell where one left off and the other began.

They were together, and they were in love, and they were determined not to let anyone steal their newfound happiness away.


	12. Chapter 12

The next week passed in a haze of idyllic days and even more blissful nights. Jane and Kurt hiked and skied and even took a snowmobile tour of the area. He taught her to ice skate, as promised, and she was thrilled when he promised they’d go as often as they were able when they returned to New York. There was nothing she liked better than gliding along the ice hand-in-hand with him. There was nothing she liked better than being hand-in-hand with him anywhere.

And she spent a good portion of her days doing exactly that. They awoke to breakfast in bed that first morning and took turns feeding each other before sating the hunger that awoke in them for one another. It was mid-morning before they managed to roust themselves from bed, and they spent the remainder of that first day wandering through the local shops. Needless to say, they would be returning with a great deal more stuff than they had left with.

Most of their purchases were Christmas-related, presents for Roman and Sarah and Sawyer, who were flying out after the holiday to spend a belated Christmas with them, but they managed to secretly buy each other gifts as well, tucking those away in their respective suitcases and sternly admonishing one another not to peek.

Not that there would have been much opportunity for that anyway. They were scarcely out of one another’s sight, taking advantage of the spacious shower and Jacuzzi tub their room offered to even bathe together. Their lovemaking continued to improve as they grew more and more attuned to one another’s bodies, and soon it seemed as if they truly were one flesh when they came together. But it was still the cuddling that they both treasured above all else.

Their last day there, Kurt bundled Jane into her warm clothes and out of the inn, refusing to tell her where they were going, and when she stepped outside there was a horse-drawn sleigh waiting for them. Her face lit up as she looked up at Kurt. “Is that for us?” She’d seen them around New York and in movies, but she’d never thought she’d have the opportunity—or the reason—to ride in one herself.

“It is,” Kurt confirmed, glad that his plan for the day was a hit. He handed Jane into the sleigh and settled into the seat beside her, wrapping the blanket tightly around them as the driver shook the reins, and they got underway.

The driver took them through a part of the area they hadn’t seen before, and Jane was so mesmerized by the beauty around them that it was some time before she spoke. “Have you been on a sleigh ride before?” she murmured into Kurt’s ear as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Nope,” he returned as he drew her closer until she was almost sitting in his lap. “This is another first just for the two of us. Maybe we can do it every year on our anniversary. It will be our tradition.” One of many he hoped to start with her. And he already had the next one lined up, thanks to Zapata.

“I’d like that,” Jane agreed. Creating traditions was a big step in setting down roots, and both were something that had been missing from her life for a very long time. And from the looks of things, from Kurt’s, as well. Maybe, just maybe, creating them with her would make him decide he wanted to stay married. He’d said he was happy, and he certainly seemed to be enjoying all aspects of married life so far.

And he was proving to be a far more attentive and sweet husband than she could have envisioned when she learned they were married. Today’s sleigh ride was no exception. She didn’t know how he’d managed to arrange it without her knowledge, but she loved him all the more for the forethought he’d put into it.

The ride lasted nearly an hour, and when they returned, they roasted the remainder of their marshmallows, making s’mores for lunch before cuddling up next to the fire, as had become the norm for them.

“I’m going to miss this,” Kurt said after they had sat in companionable silence for quite some time. “Not just this place, but . . . Not having to wake up worrying about what the day’s going to hold. Just being able to relax and spend time with you without any distractions or interruptions.”

“Me too,” Jane said quietly. “But it won’t be like this forever, Kurt. Once Shepherd is caught, and we take down Sandstorm . . .”

“Maybe we could come back here for our tenth anniversary,” Kurt suggested. “Or wait, even better . . . how about _every_ tenth anniversary? Not that we can’t come back in between if we want to, but those visits can be special. We can stay in this room again, and take our sleigh ride, and . . . What is it?” he asked as Jane swiveled to face him with tears in her eyes. “What’s wrong? If you’d rather go somewhere else . . .”

“No!” Jane blurted. “It’s . . . it’s not that, Kurt. I just didn’t know . . . We haven’t talked about . . . I had no idea that you were planning to . . . stay married,” she said carefully.

Kurt frowned. “Of course we talked about this. I told you if we slept together, it would change things.”

“Yes,” Jane said carefully, “but considering you told me you were too choosy to get married in the past, I thought you were just . . . warning me not to get too attached to you.”

He really needed to learn to express himself better. “And now that you know what I really meant?” Kurt asked. “Is that . . . are you okay with it?” He could scarcely breathe as he waited for her response.

“No,” Jane said, and Kurt felt his heart sink into his toes. “It is so much more than okay to me that I can’t even begin to describe how fine I am with it.” She smiled at him, and then she was in his arms, and they were crying and laughing at the same time as they clung to each other.

“Jane,” Kurt murmured when he finally drew back, wiping the tear tracks from her cheeks with his thumbs, “I love you. God, how I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Jane choked out, and then she was back in his arms again, and time crept by as they held one another. “When did you know?” she asked when she could speak again. “That you loved me, I mean?”

“I think I’ve known for a while,” Kurt said as he rubbed Jane’s back gently. “I just hadn’t admitted it to myself because I didn’t think I had a shot with you. I told myself that the best I could hope for was your friendship, that I was lucky to still have that, but then I got that marriage certificate in the mail, and . . .” He shook his head. “My first reaction was . . . joy. I was thrilled that you were mine.”

“Really?” Jane was surprised by his admission. “I never would have guessed that. You seemed so upset by it I assumed . . .”

“Yeah, I . . . did not handle that well,” Kurt acknowledged. “Ever since I saw you walking down that aisle toward me in your wedding dress, all I could think about was how much I wanted it to be real, and then suddenly it was, but not because we— _you—_ wanted it to be. It felt like just one more choice that was ripped out of your hands, and I was afraid it would make things so awkward between us that I’d never have a shot with you. And then you told Rich that we would never choose to get married for real, and—”

“Because I honestly thought that was how _you_ felt,” Jane cut in, feeling her heart sink at the thought of how much that must have hurt him. “We’re really going to have to work on talking to one another instead of assuming we know how the other feels, aren’t we?”

“We’ve got the rest of our lives to do that,” Kurt agreed, feeling more lighthearted than he had the entire honeymoon. “No more assumptions. From now on, when I want to know how you feel about something, I’ll _ask_ you. And speaking of that . . .” He shifted so he could see her face. “When did you know you were in love with _me?”_

“When I was walking down that aisle toward you,” Jane told him. “I mean, deep down, I knew before that, but like you, I hadn’t admitted it to myself. I couldn’t help getting . . . caught up in the wedding planning, and I had to keep reminding myself that it wasn’t real. But then I caught sight of you as I started down the aisle, and the way you were looking at me . . .” She shook her head, laughing a little. “I remember thinking how badly I wanted it to be real, and I just . . . I knew.”

Kurt’s brow furrowed. “So why . . . why sleep with me if you didn’t think I felt the same way?”

Jane cuddled back into him. “When I decided to stay married, I vowed to make you as happy as I could for as long as you’d allow. And I wanted . . . I thought I’d rather make these memories with you even if I was going to have to give you up someday than never know what it was like to . . .” Her voice grew thick with tears, and she trailed off.

“Oh, Jane.” Kurt pressed a kiss to the top of her hair. “You’re _never_ going to have to give me up. I’m yours till death do us part. And you’re mine.” He pulled her closer until there was no space left between them, relishing the new openness between them.

They were together, and they were in love, and they were finally on the same page.


	13. Chapter 13

They returned to New York early the following morning, and life settled into a comfortable routine over the next week. They went to work and saved the world—or attempted to, since leads on Sandstorm had dried up, much to everyone’s mounting frustration—and then they went home.

And the evenings . . . Jane found herself counting the hours until they could leave, watching clocks she’d scarcely ever glanced at before. Kurt had started giving her cooking lessons, as promised, and after they did the dishes, they would snuggle up on the couch with Eddie, sometimes taking in a movie Kurt insisted was a must-see or watching a new one together, and other times simply sitting in silence, relishing the solace they found in one another’s company, in not being alone any longer.

Jane had been anxious to see Eddie, so they’d headed straight to Patterson’s to get him as soon as they arrived in the city, and she had been quick to pick up on the change in their relationship, hugging them both fiercely as she exclaimed over how happy she was for them.

Apparently, that delight had led her to pass the news on, because Reade and Zapata descended on them shortly after they arrived in Kurt’s office their first morning back to offer their own congratulations. “So, boss,” Zapata asked with a suggestive twinkle in her eye that Kurt knew spelt trouble, “how did you like my gift?”

Kurt’s face had reddened, but Jane simply laughed. “He liked them, Zapata. He liked _both_ of them.” She was relieved that things between them were getting back to the way they once had been, that Zapata had ceased her sniping and was making an effort to mend fences between them. Learning a man she had trusted with some of her deepest secrets had been the real traitor who almost got Reade killed had been a turning point in their relationship, and Jane was happy to be able to count her among the ranks of her friends again.

Nas, unsurprisingly, was the only one not happy for them, questioning Kurt’s fitness to continue leading the mission against Sandstorm when his objectivity was in doubt, but with Pellington backing them and her own career on shaky ground from having led the failed raid, her opinion didn’t carry much sway. Pellington did caution them to keep their personal relationship out of the office, and the two of them took that advice almost to extremes, much to the amusement of the rest of the team.

Their second night back, Kurt dragged Jane to a Christmas tree lot, having heard from Zapata that she’d admired the ones in the mall, and inspected tree after tree, refusing to rest until they’d picked out the perfect one together. When she’d protested that they didn’t have anything to decorate it with, he’d assured her that they would pick out ornaments together as well. He was determined that decorating a tree together would be another new tradition of theirs.

The trip to pick them out wasn’t exactly smooth sailing though. They were just coming out of the store with a cartful of ornaments when Jane spotted a kitten dart out from under a parked car. “Jane, no,” Kurt expostulated, but she was already walking toward it, cooing gently to the frightened animal, and there was nothing he could do but follow her. It was like watching a train wreck about to happen and being powerless to stop it.

The kitten, naturally, came straight to Jane, and she scooped the hapless animal up in her arms as she turned to Kurt with pleading eyes. “No!” Kurt protested. “Jane . . . we can’t keep him . . . her . . . it. We just got a moose-sized dog.”

“Her,” Jane said after a discreet check of the kitten’s underside. “And we can’t leave her out here all alone. She’s too tiny to fend for herself. She’ll _die,_ Kurt.”

 _What the hell had happened to his nice, orderly life?_ Kurt wondered as he bit back the suggestion that they take the kitten to a shelter. Jane was clearly already growing attached to the little gray tabby, and he sighed as an image flashed before his eyes of her crawling out of the bag in Times Square, just as alone and frightened as this kitten must be.

“Besides,” Jane continued, pressing her advantage as Kurt’s eyes softened, “she’ll be good company for Eddie. And we . . . we can name her Tasha. Just think of it, Kurt. We’ll have a matched set.”

Kurt couldn’t contain his startled bark of laughter at what the _real_ Tasha would say to that. It would be worth adopting the kitten just to see the expression on her face. But more importantly, Jane would be happy, and one small cat—and a moose-sized dog—was a small price to pay for that. “Fine,” he conceded, giving the kitten a gentle pat on the head, and the way Jane’s face lit up, you would have thought he’d just handed her the moon.

He loaded their purchases into the SUV and then drove to the nearest pet store, picking out a litter box and a bag of kitten chow while Jane waited in the car with Tasha. Kurt couldn’t control the smile that crossed his face every time he thought of Zapata’s reaction, and he got a huge kick out of telling her the next day. After her initial shock wore off, she pretended to be insulted, but both Kurt and Jane could tell she was secretly flattered.

Eddie and Tasha bonded almost as quickly as their human namesakes, and soon it was all they could do to separate them when they had to take Eddie to daycare before work in the mornings. Tasha was always at the door waiting to greet him when they returned, and she and Eddie would romp around the apartment until they wore themselves out, at which point she would curl up on his back and groom his fur until she fell asleep.

The bottom fell out of their perfect little world nine days after they returned.

The day started like every other since their return, with them lingering in bed as long as possible and then rushing around like crazy to get ready, but this morning they didn’t ride into work together. Allie had a doctor’s appointment, so Jane caught a cab to the NYO. Kurt had asked her to come along, since Connor was going to be there, but by the time he’d mentioned he’d like her to go with him, she’d made a coinciding doctor’s appointment to deal with birth control.

She’d offered to reschedule, but Kurt had insisted that she keep it, telling her she could come along next time, and to be honest she had been relieved. Things had been . . . awkward, to say the least, between her and Allie the few times Allie had dropped by the office since her marriage to Kurt. Allie had been nearly as upset as Sarah to learn of Kurt’s nuptials by reading about it in the Times, and she had flat-out asked Kurt if Jane was pregnant as well. Jane had done her best to smooth things over, not wanting to make this situation any more difficult than it had to be for Kurt, and the two of them had reached a grudging truce, though she doubted they would ever be friends.

Kurt wasn’t quite himself when he made it to the office, but Jane was so concerned about Roman’s mental state that she launched right into a plea for him to be let out of his cell, promising herself that she would ask him how Allie’s appointment had gone next. Unfortunately, she never got that chance. The conversation got heated, with Nas intervening to offer to have a doctor she knew work with Roman, and by the time they were done, Patterson texted to say she had cracked another tattoo.

The day only went downhill from there for both of them. The tattoo led to a leader of the Dabbur Zann, and when they went to arrest him, Keaton was there. Jane couldn’t believe her eyes when he stepped from the SUV, and she definitely didn’t believe him when he implied Kurt had known about her torture. “Kurt would _never_ have anything to do with the likes of you,” she spat.

“That’s right,” Keaton said with a cold smile as he looked from one to the other. “It’s Mrs. Weller now, isn’t it? I have to admit, I never saw that one coming. I guess my wedding invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.”

Kurt laid a hand on Jane’s arm as she took a step toward Keaton. “Don’t. He’s not worth it.”

Jane obeyed, but he could feel her practically seething with rage at the idea of having to work with Keaton, and they got into another heated argument. They narrowly managed to avert the terror attack, with Kurt nearly getting blown up in the process, and by the time they headed home, he felt like he had been put through a physical and emotional wringer.

“I want to apologize,” Jane said as they drove, and Kurt glanced over at her. “For yelling at you today. I know you didn’t have any choice but to work with Keaton, and I’m sorry things got so heated when we were discussing Roman. I want you to know that when I ask you for something for him, I’m only acting in his best interests, and it has nothing to do with you and me. I’m not trying to presume on our relationship to gain special favors for him.”

Kurt nodded slowly as he felt her words lift a huge weight off his chest. “So what you’re saying is . . . I shouldn’t worry about having to sleep in the doghouse when we don’t . . . see eye to eye on your brother.”

“Never,” Jane assured him. “I like you sleeping right where you’re at.” She blushed at the look he shot her. “I just . . . I don’t want us to bring the bad parts of our work home with us. And I know that’s going to be a fine line, sometimes, especially because of Roman, and I don’t know how to navigate it, but—”

“Jane,” Kurt interrupted, reaching over to give her hand a squeeze. “We’ll figure it out. Together. Partners, remember?” He threaded his fingers through hers as she nodded. “And for the record, I’m going to do all I can to help Roman. He’s my family now, as well, and I know he hasn’t had a fair shake in life. But I _can’t_ risk endangering any more lives in the process, Jane.”

“I know,” Jane said quietly. “And I wouldn’t want you to. My job is to advocate for my brother, but I think the best thing you can do for him right now is to stay objective and look at the big picture. Because if he hurts anyone else, I know it’s all over for him. That’s why no matter how upset I get in the moment, I’m never going to hold your decisions against you.” She tightened her hold on his hand. “I don’t want you to have to deal with any more deaths on your conscience. I love you, Kurt.”

“I love you too, Jane,” Kurt choked out, touched by her words and so incredibly relieved. God, how had he ever gotten so lucky for her to choose _him?_ “I always will.” He parked the car, but they didn’t immediately exit, simply basking in the comfort they found in one another after such a tough day.

They were partners and lovers and best friends, and they were looking out for one another.


	14. Chapter 14

They prepared dinner in companionable silence, Jane preparing a salad and garlic bread, while Kurt quickly threw together some spaghetti. Normally, they would work together on all of it, but after the day they’d had, they mutually agreed to delegate. They were both anxious to put this day behind them and unwind together on the couch.

“Hey, how did Allie’s appointment go today?” Jane asked as they sat down to eat.

Kurt sighed. “I wouldn’t know. I didn’t get there in time. Connor went in with her.”

“I’m sorry,” Jane said. She knew it bothered him that Connor was accompanying Allie, despite his protestations to the contrary, and she felt incredibly guilty that she was partly responsible for him being late. He was hard to resist, but she would make damn sure that he was on time for all future appointments.

“Don’t be,” Kurt told her. “I know this is hard on you as well, Jane.” They hadn’t discussed it, but it was part of the reason he had lingered in bed this morning. That, and she was just so damn irresistible when she flashed him that half-awake smile of hers. He couldn’t seem to get enough of watching it come fully awake as he made love to her.

Jane didn’t know how to respond. Her feelings about Allie and the baby were . . . conflicted anymore, to say the least. They finished their meal in companionable silence, and then she suggested Kurt go work on the nursery for a while, while she cleaned up. He’d bought the furniture over the weekend, and put it together, as well as painting a few swatches on the wall, but he kept finding new and better ways to arrange it. Hopefully, that would cheer him up from this morning’s disappointment.

She was just drying the last few dishes when a knock sounded on the door. “Kurt!” she called as she started toward the door, knowing whoever was coming by had to be for him. “Allie,” she said in surprise when she opened it. “Uh, hi. Kurt didn’t mention you were coming by. Come on in.”

“He doesn’t know,” Allie said as she stepped inside. “Hey, Kurt,” she greeted as he stepped out from the hallway. “Sorry for stopping by so late, but I needed to talk to you. Jane, could you give us a minute, please?”

Jane felt her heart sink at the serious expression on the woman’s face. Something was clearly up. “Sure,” she agreed as she turned back to the kitchen to finish putting the dishes away.

Kurt clearly didn’t notice anything amiss. “Come on,” he said eagerly as he motioned for Allie to follow him. “I have something I want to show you.” He led Allie back down the hallway to the nursery.

Jane strained her ears, but she couldn’t hear any trace of their conversation. She supposed the lack of raised voices was a good thing. _Or not,_ she realized a few minutes later when Allie emerged from the nursery alone. “Allie?” she asked as their eyes met, already moving toward the woman. “What’s going on? Is everything okay with the baby?”

“The baby’s fine, Jane.” Allie hesitated, wondering if she should leave it to Kurt to break the news and then deciding it might be best coming from her. “I, uh . . . I got a promotion, so Connor and I are going to be moving to Colorado. I talked it over with Kurt, and he gave me his blessing.”

“And you believed him?” Jane took a half-step back, stunned by this news. “Look, Allie . . . I’ve been trying to stay out of things between you and Kurt, so maybe it’s not my place to say this, but I hope for the sake of your daughter, you’ll reconsider. Do you really want your child to grow up without her father? Connor seems like a nice guy, and it’s great that he’s being so supportive of you and willing to play a role in her life, but he’ll never be able to take Kurt’s place. As a child who was orphaned very young, I can tell you that the one thing I wish now more than anything was that I’d had the opportunity to know my parents. _Both_ my parents. And Kurt is so excited about being a dad. Please . . . don’t take that away from him. Don’t take it away from your _daughter.”_

Allie glanced away as she listened. “Kurt told me to take the promotion. And Connor’s already put in for a transfer.” She fiddled with the buttons on her coat. “I should go.”

Jane watched in disbelief as Allie turned and walked out of the apartment without a backwards glance, and then went in search of Kurt.

He was standing in the nursery with his back to her, shoulders slumped as he stared down into the crib that would never hold his daughter now. “Kurt,” she said softly as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“Allie told you,” Kurt stated more than asked as he turned toward her with tears streaming down his face, reaching for her even as she wrapped her arms around him.

“She did,” Jane confirmed. “I tried to talk her out of it, but I don’t think it helped. I probably shouldn’t have said anything. I hope I didn’t make things worse.”

Kurt smiled sadly. “I don’t think you could, but I appreciate your trying. We haven’t talked much about the baby, but I know this hasn’t been easy for you, Jane.” He couldn’t imagine how he would feel if their positions were reversed, and she were expecting some other man’s baby.

“I admit that I wish parenthood were a first we were experiencing together,” Jane said carefully, “but this isn’t about me, Kurt. Like I told Allie, this is about your daughter, and what’s best for her. And that is absolutely having you in her life. Why did you tell Allie to take the promotion?”

“I just . . . she caught me so off-guard I didn’t know what to say,” Kurt admitted. “It was clear she wanted to go, and I didn’t want to stand in the way of her career. And I’ve never had your confidence that I would be a good father, Jane. When Allie first told me she was pregnant, all I could think about was my mom telling me I was just like my dad.”

Jane sucked in a breath as fury coursed through her. God help that woman if she ever laid eyes on her. “You are _nothing_ like him,” she insisted. “You’re loving and kind and dependable and honorable. And you are going to be an _amazing_ father. Just seeing how excited you were to build this nursery proves it. You deserve the chance to find that out for yourself.” It was all she could do to force out her next words. “Maybe you should consider moving to Colorado.”

“What?” Kurt drew back, stunned. “Jane . . . No. I am not leaving you.” He couldn’t believe she would even suggest it.

“It wouldn’t be forever,” Jane said softly. “Once we take down Sandstorm, I could join you.” The thought of even that short separation broke her heart, but she couldn’t bear to be the reason Kurt was separated from his child. “You shouldn’t have to miss out on your daughter’s birth and all of her important milestones because of me.”

“I’m not,” Kurt told her. “Even if we hadn’t gotten married, I would still be staying here, Jane. Sandstorm was watching me long before you came into my life, and until I know what they want with me, I’m not going anywhere. Come to think of it, it might be best that I keep my distance from my daughter for the time being. Besides . . . I’m not even sure it would be possible for me to move at this point without taking a huge demotion myself. I doubt there’s an opening for a lead agent in Colorado, much less an assistant director.

“And . . .” He pulled Jane back into his arms. “What kind of husband would I be if I abandoned you now? I vowed to love, honor, and protect you, and you and Roman need me. If I were to leave, Pellington would probably hand him over to the CIA before my flight could even take off.” No doubt with Nas’s blessing.

Jane shivered at the thought, and Kurt’s arms tightened around her. “Relax. I won’t let that happen. Partners, remember? I’m in this for the long haul. I love you, Jane.”

“I love you too, Kurt.” Jane lifted her head from his chest to smile up at him. “And what I said earlier . . . I didn’t mean . . . I really am happy for you and Allie. Truly.”

“I know,” Kurt assured her. “If things aren’t too hectic when Allie goes into labor, maybe we could fly out there for a visit.” She nodded, and he hesitated before continuing. “Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but I wish it was you and me, as well, Jane. It means the world to me that you spoke up to Allie on my behalf, and to know that you’ll never take any of our kids away from me. You’re going to be an _amazing_ mom. And given the circumstances, for all intents and purposes, we will be experiencing parenthood for the first time together.”

Jane swallowed hard as she stared at him, and Kurt froze. “I mean, if you want to have kids. I guess I just assumed when you said what you did that . . .” He trailed off, but when she still didn’t speak, he quickly backpedaled. “It’s okay if you’d rather not. I—”

“No!” Jane blurted, finally finding her voice. “I hadn’t really thought about it when I said that, but . . .” She took a deep breath. “We haven’t had a chance to talk about our future, and to be honest, I’ve been avoiding thinking about it with everything going on, but I would love to have a family with you, Kurt Weller. Once we take down Sandstorm and figure out a way for you to be in your daughter’s life, we can work on a kid of our own.”

“Something to look forward to then,” Kurt said quietly. “I think we could both use that right now.” He stepped back and gestured around him. “In the meantime, I think I’ll put this furniture in storage and turn this back into a guest room.”

“Don’t you think you should hold off on that for a while?” Jane suggested. “Allie may think it over and change her mind.”

Kurt shook his head. “No, she won’t.” Allie’s mind had been made up before she ever came over here, and if he had stood in the way of her career, she would just have wound up resenting him, making it more difficult to coparent than any amount of distance would. “And I’d rather not have to walk by here every day and be reminded of . . .” He looked away. “Besides, this way Sarah and Sawyer can stay with us when they come to visit. If that’s okay with you.”

“Of course,” Jane assured him at once. She was a bit nervous about coming face to face with Kurt’s sister again, but Sarah had been so kind the few times they talked on the phone that she had set Jane’s mind at ease. “I’m looking forward to seeing them again.”

Kurt’s face brightened. “Me too.” It felt like an eternity since they had left. “I gave away the old furniture, so we’ll have to pick out new stuff for in here, unless . . .” He hesitated. “We could pick out new furniture for our room, make that space our own, and move the old stuff in here.”

Jane’s face lit up. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?” Kurt’s furniture was nice, but she loved the idea of them picking out a set all their own to commemorate the start of their new life together. Every place she’d stayed that she could remember had come fully furnished, so this would be another first for her.

“Not at all,” Kurt assured her. He reached for her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. “I’m just . . . I’m so thankful to have you in my life, Jane. I don’t know how I’d have gotten through tonight if I were alone.

Jane tightened her grip on his hand. “I’m thankful for you as well, Kurt. I’m thankful _neither_ of us ever has to be alone again.” She moved back into his arms, and they held each other tightly, each relishing the comfort found in the other’s embrace.

They had weathered their first storm as a couple, and together they would weather any others life threw at them.


	15. Chapter 15

And life threw many storms at them in the coming weeks and months. Shepherd’s attack on the NYO was the first major one they weathered as a couple, and Jane honestly didn’t know how she would have survived Roman’s defection without Kurt by her side.

She gripped Kurt’s hand tightly as they approached Pellington’s widow to offer their condolences after his memorial service, relieved when the woman accepted them with a teary smile of thanks. She had suggested to Kurt that it might not be appropriate for her to attend Pellington’s funeral, despite how much she wanted to, but he had vetoed all her objections, insisting that no one who knew her held her in any way responsible for Shepherd’s attack.

Jane wished she felt so sure. She had a hunch that it was more her status as Kurt’s wife that kept their coworkers from expressing their views on her culpability in the attack, rather than their belief in her actual innocence. Or maybe that was her own guilty conscience projecting onto them. It was _her_ family that had perpetrated the attack, after all. _Her_ plan, at least once upon a time. She suspected it would be a long time, if ever, before she could hold herself similarly blameless.

Jane might have had her doubts about her coworkers at large, but her teammates came together to fill the gap left by Roman, and by the time Christmas approached, they felt as tight-knit as any flesh-and-blood family.

All of them had plans with their actual families at Christmas—including Kurt and Jane, who were postponing their holiday one day in order to celebrate with Sarah and Sawyer—so they met at Jane and Kurt’s apartment the Saturday before for a team Christmas.

Reade and Zapata and Patterson all arrived together shortly before eleven, each carrying an item for the dessert swap Patterson had suggested in lieu of gifts. Kurt and Reade had immediately asked if alcohol counted, and judging from the shape of the bag Reade carried, that was what he had brought. Kurt had bought Pennsylvania beer for everyone, but he had also dutifully baked an extra pie for Jane to contribute.

“Here,” Zapata said as she thrust the pan of flan she had bribed a neighbor into making for her into Weller’s outstretched hands before turning to Jane. “Now take me to see this cat I’ve been hearing so much about.”

Jane obligingly escorted her to the spare bedroom and smiled as she watched the tough-as-nails agent melt as she laid eyes on her namesake, instantly scooping Tasha up and cuddling her close as she cooed to her.

“If you tell anyone about this, I will hurt you,” Zapata threatened, though there was no heat to her words. They both knew she was no match for Jane on her worst day, anyway.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Jane promised her, and they shared a conspiratorial smile. She was so happy things had gotten back to normal between her and Zapata and Patterson. As much as she loved Kurt, it was nice to have female companionship as well, and their biweekly girls’ nights out were one of the highlights of her new life.

By the time they returned to the living room, Kurt was carving the turkey. “Perfect timing,” he said. “I’m just about to put dinner on the table. Jane, would you mind pouring everyone a glass of wine?”

Jane was more than happy to oblige, and soon everyone was seated at the table, eagerly filling their plates with a variety of delicious-smelling foods. Kurt had outdone himself with this meal, and conversation flowed easily as everyone ate until they were stuffed. They moved to the living room after they had cleaned up and divided up the desserts to exchange, all of them looking so good that none of them could pick just one to take, and it was well after ten before they called it a night.

Jane and Kurt had agreed not to open any presents until Sarah and Sawyer joined them, and they spent Christmas day quietly, watching holiday movies and brushing up on Kurt’s Uno Attack skills, so he could, in his words, “trounce the little sneak,” and making love whenever the mood struck them.

They were just about to do so again when a knock sounded on the door, and Jane looked at Kurt in puzzlement. “Were we expecting someone today?”

“Nope,” Kurt said, equally mystified. He reluctantly climbed off her and hastily pulled his clothes back on before going to answer the door.

The man who had returned their wedding rings to them was standing on the other side. “Here you go, sir,” he said, handing Kurt a brightly wrapped box. “Mr. Dotcom sends his compliments and wishes you a Merry Christmas.” And once again, he was gone as quickly as he had appeared.

“It’s for you,” Kurt said dryly as he handed Jane the present. It was no secret which of the two of them Rich favored in this relationship. Not that he could blame the man. She was pretty damn irresistible.

Jane started to rip open the wrapping paper and then hesitated. “Should I wait?”

“Nope,” Kurt said emphatically. “I don’t want to have to try to explain Rich Dotcom to my sister.” He was sure whatever Rich had sent them would be . . . memorable. He gestured to the present. “Open it. Let’s see what he’s up to this time.”

Jane pulled the paper off the box and lifted the lid. Inside were two sets of keys, one that appeared to be for a car and one a house, along with a card and several papers. She set the card aside and picked up the first paper, her eyes widening when she realized it was the title to a top-of-the-line SUV in her name.

Well, not exactly her name, Jane realized. The name on the title read _Jane Weller,_ and legally speaking, she was _Alice Weller._ She handed the paper to Kurt. “Rich apparently forgot that I’m technically Alice. And I guess no one ever mentioned to him that I don’t have a driver’s license.”

A strange look crossed Kurt’s face. “Hold on.” He darted down the hall to their bedroom and returned a minute later with a rolled-up piece of paper tied with a red ribbon. “I was going to give this to you tomorrow, but I think now may be a better time anyway.”

He held it out to her, and Jane pulled the ribbon off and unrolled it. “You said a while back that you were Jane now, and that’s certainly how all of us think of you, so I filled out the paperwork for you to legally change your name, if you want to. All you have to do is sign it, and we can file it with the court.”

“Yes,” Jane said as she hugged Kurt fiercely, overwhelmed with the thoughtfulness of his gift. “I definitely want to. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Kurt told her. “And as for the driver’s license, we’ll go by the DMV in a few days and get you your learner’s permit. I should have already taken care of that. You can start driving us around, and when you have enough practice hours in, I’ll take you to get your license.

“But,” he cautioned as her face brightened even more, and she started to hug him again, “Jane . . . you can’t keep the car. It’s one thing to accept a pet and doggie day care from Rich, because I doubt anyone will ever think to question those things, but if my wife goes driving around town in a pricey Lexus that we could never afford, it could look like I was taking bribes from a criminal.”

“I understand,” Jane said quietly. Truth be told, she was more excited about the name change and license anyway. Though it would have been nice not to have to rely on someone else to drive her everywhere.

Kurt squeezed her shoulder in sympathy. “We’ll get you your own car, I promise. Just not such an expensive one.”

Jane nodded and turned her attention back to the other papers in the box. There was a brochure for Disneyland Paris, and a page of pictures of a villa that appeared to be within walking distance of the Eiffel Tower. Her brow furrowed. “Rich knows we already went on our honeymoon. Why would he . . .?”

“Open the card,” Kurt urged. “Let’s see what he has to say for himself.” He leaned in close to Jane as she did so and rested his head on her shoulder as they read it together.

_Stubbles, Janie:_

_I know the two of you are incredibly busy right now, but I thought when things slowed down a bit, you could use a vacation to help you start filling that new car with babies, so I’ve enclosed a spare key to my villa in France. Feel free to use it anytime. I know there are a lot more interesting sights to see in Paris than Disneyland, but I hope you’ll spend at least one day there. The two of you haven’t had enough magic in your lives, and what better spot than the happiest place on earth to provide that?_

_Merry Christmas,_

_Rich_

_P.S. I would make an_ excellent _godfather._

Jane choked out a laugh as she read the postscript. “He never quits, does he?”

“Nope,” Kurt said with an answering chuckle just as the phone rang. “How much do you want to bet that’s him now?”

“No bet,” Jane chuckled, and sure enough, Kurt was right.

“Stubbles, Janie,” Rich greeted when they answered the phone. “I was just calling to wish the two of you a Merry Christmas. Did you get my present?”

“We did,” Jane said, deciding to take the lead as she noticed Kurt’s clenched jaw. No point in ruffling Rich’s feathers unnecessarily. “But I’m afraid we can’t accept it, Rich. The car or the vacation. It’s nothing personal, but it wouldn’t look good for an assistant director of the FBI to be taking such expensive presents from a criminal he put away. You need to take the car back.”

“Not a chance,” Rich said with a laugh. “But nice try. And I do hope you’ll reconsider the vacation. I’m looking forward to those godchildren sooner rather than later. Well, it’s been a pleasure chatting with you, Janie, but I’ve got to go. But never fear, I’m sure we’ll talk again soon. Good luck trying to return the car. And tell Stubbles if he doesn’t treat you right, he’ll answer to me.” He could hear Weller spluttering in the background as he hung up, and he smiled.

“What do you suppose he meant by that?” Jane asked. “It shouldn’t be that difficult to return the car, right? All we have to do is take it back to the dealership and tell them it was a mistake, have them return the money to whatever account it came from.”

“In theory,” Kurt said. “But let’s face it, nothing with Rich is ever that simple.” He shook his head at Jane. “You know, when most criminals of Rich’s caliber get caught, they spend their time plotting revenge on the cops who put them there, not playing matchmaker and fairy godmother.”

Jane chuckled. “He’s certainly one-of-a-kind. But I don’t mind his meddling _too_ much, since my life is so much better with you in it.” And surely now that they were happily married and Rich knew it, at some point he would grow tired of toying with them.

“Mine is too,” Kurt told her. “And that reminds me . . .” He took the papers from Jane and tossed them on the coffee table before rolling her beneath him on the couch. “Where were we?”

Jane opened her mouth to answer him, but he kissed his way along her jawline to the sensitive spot at the base of her neck, and soon the only thought on her mind was her and him, and the joy she found in his arms.

It was a _long_ time before coherent thought returned.

xxx

Jane had been both eager and anxious to see Sarah again, but her nerves turned out to be unwarranted. Sarah was as welcoming in person as she had been on the phone, pulling Jane into her arms for a fierce hug the moment she caught sight of her in the airport. The two of them spent nearly every waking moment together during Sarah’s four-day visit, and by the time it was over, she and Jane were not just sisters-in-law, but sisters.

The day after Sarah and Sawyer left, Kurt and Jane attempted to return the Lexus, and they quickly learned why Rich had laughingly wished them good luck. “But Mrs. Weller,” the salesman protested, looking alarmed at the prospect of losing his sizeable commission, “Mr. Dotcom didn’t _buy_ you the car; he merely purchased it on your behalf. The money came from _your_ bank account.”

Kurt and Jane glanced at one another, confounded. “We’ll get back to you,” Kurt said. He ushered Jane out of the car dealership, and they headed straight to the NYO, where Patterson confirmed everything the car salesman had told them.

“The money came from an account belonging to Alice Kruger,” Patterson told them as she put the bank records up on the screen for them to see. “To you, Jane. It was only opened recently, but I did some digging, and interestingly enough, up until a couple years ago, you had an account at this very bank with the exact sum this one was opened with in it. It was an inheritance from your parents, and it was closed by your brother, ostensibly because you were deceased.”

Kurt struggled to absorb the implications of this news. “So you’re saying . . .”

“I’m saying the money is Jane’s, free and clear,” Patterson elaborated. “It’s possible Rich simply replaced it from his own coffers, but my bet is that he tracked the original money and returned it to its rightful owner. And if Shepherd was using that money to fund whatever she’s planning . . .”

“Then we owe Rich a very large debt of gratitude,” Kurt finished. “This could be a game-changer for us in our fight against Sandstorm.”

And so it proved to be. They managed to stop Shepherd from nuking the East Coast just in the nick of time, thanks in large part to Patterson’s genius, but not without a final confrontation with Roman. Jane’s heart broke as she watched him walk away from her, but short of arresting him and condemning him to a lifetime in prison, there was nothing she could do. Besides, Kurt was injured and needed her. Fortunately, his stab wound was relatively minor, but she refused to leave his side until he was discharged from the hospital.

If Pellington had been more ally than friend, the new FBI director, Eleanor Hirst, took a keen interest in Jane. She called Jane into her office within an hour of their return to the NYO, and surprised the hell out of Jane by first informing her that she had no doubt she could succeed in whatever she set her mind to in the future, and then offering her a spot in the next class that was starting at Quantico in a few weeks.

“I, uh . . .” Jane was too stunned to know how to respond. “I’ll have to talk it over with Kurt, and . . .”

“I understand.” Hirst smiled at Jane. “Take all the time you need to think it over—but I really hope you’ll say yes. The FBI could use more strong women like you in our ranks.”

“So? What do you think?” Jane asked Kurt that evening after she recounted her conversation with Hirst.

“I think it’s an incredible opportunity,” Kurt said as he threaded his fingers through hers. “And nobody deserves it more. I’d miss you like hell while you’re gone, but if it’s what you want . . . I say go for it.”

And after a great deal of thought—and many more discussions with an unfailingly supportive Kurt—go for it, Jane did. She missed him every bit as much as he did her, but fortunately, even with Kurt’s busy schedule, he managed to come for a visit at least one weekend each month, and he was front and center at Jane’s graduation five months later, as were the rest of the team, and of course, Director Hirst.

Jane had been a full-fledged agent for four months when Kurt broached a subject that had been increasingly on his mind of late. “You know,” he mentioned one evening as they cuddled in bed after a particularly spectacular round of lovemaking, running a hand up and down her bare back, “I seem to recall us agreeing to try for a baby once things settled down. Is that . . . is that still something you’d be interested in?”

“Funny you should mention that,” Jane said with a grin as she leaned over to her nightstand and extracted something from the drawer. “I was going to give this to you on your birthday, but I don’t think I can wait a few more days, so . . . Happy early birthday, darling.”

Kurt stared at the stick she handed him for several seconds before it registered that it was a positive pregnancy test, and he let out such a loud whoop of joy that Jane quickly covered his mouth with hers to avoid disturbing their neighbors.

Jane’s initial reaction to the pregnancy had been nervousness about whether she had what it took to be a good mother or not after her upbringing, but Kurt and her teammates were unfailingly kind and supportive whenever she voiced any doubts, and the pregnancy seemed to fairly fly by as Jane grew more and more in tune with who she was now and what she wanted out of life with each passing day.

By the time their daughter arrived, Jane was supremely confident that with Kurt by her side, she could handle any challenges life threw at her. She could be a wife and a mother, as well as a federal agent, and kick ass at all three. She could be the role model to their little girl that she’d never had.

And she was.

They did not, however, make Rich Dotcom a godfather.


End file.
